Rising Robin
by ReemasB
Summary: Dick Grayson was the Boy Wonder. He was a Flying Grayson. But things change. They ALWAYS change. After 8 years, Dick becomes an entirely different person in the mind and soul as he returns to Gotham to figure out who he is and who he wants to be. While he adjusts, Dick Grayson finds himself making a hard decision about whether or not to rise as a guardian angel of Gotham.
1. Chapter 1: Bird vs Dragon

_This is my first public fan fiction. Any sort of comments, reviews and critiques are all welcome. As the story is an ongoing progression, any thoughts and suggestions people would like to see, leave in comments. I won't be announcing what I'm planning in bringing into the story, I'd like to keep it as a surprise as they appear. Like I said, comments and reviews would be great to help lead the progression of the story and determine what paths and sub plots the story takes. Thank you. Enjoy!_

* * *

**Chpt. I: Bird vs. Dragon**

Dick Grayson emerged from the shadows and walked towards the cage. He looked straight ahead as he heard the audience booing from all directions. _"Dick Grayson sucks!" _they chanted. _"Dick is a dick!" "Down with Dick!" "Spill Grayson blood!"_

Dick rolled his eyes. They were just betting on the opponent to win the night's fight.

Ahead of Dick was a large man standing in the cage. He was shirtless and wore military cargo pants. He had a large tattoo imprinted on his chest. It resembled a skeletal dragon of some sort. There was Arabic script tattooed around his wrists. His face was square shaped, and had a chiseled chin, but couldn't have looked older than 30. The man's eyes were dark, as if he had no soul.

Dick continued walking to the cage. Once he reached it, he climbed inside and closed the door behind him. He reached around the door to wrap the chain around the door and locked it. As Dick turned around to face his opponent, there was a slight murmur in the crowd. _"The kid's sealing himself into his own death." "Let's watch the circus boy burn, just like his parents."_

Dick formed tight fists with his palms. He eyed his opponent, making sure he didn't make a move when Dick wasn't looking. These guys were known to fight dirty.

"On one side of the Cage of Chaos," announced a man over a microphone, "straight from the Middle East is the fearless Ali Makarov!" Ali threw his arms up as the crowd cheered at the sound of his name.

"On the other side," the announcer started in a lower tone, "the only survivor of the Haly Circus Fire, the orphan acrobat, Dick Grayson!"

The audience booed against Dick. Dick shrugged it off. He got into a fighting position, fists up over his face, knees bent slightly. He was ready.

"Let's have a good show, boys," the announcer said before ringing the bell. "A good fight to the death!"

Suddenly, the bell chimed.

Makarov lunged towards Dick in an instant moment. Dick dodged to the right, sending Makarov flying to the cage wall. Makarov regained his balance and turned back to Dick. He snarled like a ferocious lion. Dick turned to face him.

Makarov made another lunge at Dick. Dick countered Makarov's fist, followed by a kick up to his lower abdomen. Makarov slightly flinched, but didn't seem hurt. He swung his entire right palm against Dick's head, slapping him. Dick went flying to the side of the cage. His head began to pound as if he had filled his head with concrete. He stood up slowly, attempting to regain his balance.

Before he got a chance to react, Makarov slammed his entire body into Dick, sending him against the cage. Dick's body was crushed against the force of Makarov. Dick screamed in agonizing pain. Makarov roared in laughter.

Suddenly, Makarov head butted Dick. Dick dropped to the floor like a rag-doll. Makarov began gloating in triumph. He threw his fists up and the crowd began cheering his name. _"Makarov! Makarov! Makarov!"_ He began speaking to himself in Arabic, perhaps monologuing about how strong and fierce he was.

Dick mentally laughed. He was always a good performer.

Dick, still seen as a limp body on the ground, began shifting slightly towards Makarov. He moved so slowly, it was practically unnoticeable. He managed to move close enough where he could reach Makarov if he took one step closer to Dick.

Makarov laughed and cheered with the crowd still. He kept speaking Arabic, as if people actually understood Arabic in Gotham. Dick noticed he had excessive veins pulsing down his back. Perhaps he was a steroid user.

Finally, Makarov took a step closer.

Dick swiftly grabbed both of Makarov's ankles with both of his hands and swung his entire body around Makarov, then threw his legs up around his neck. Dick used all of his body force to throw Makarov down to the floor from his neck, slamming his spine against the ground. Dick punched Makarov's groin once, then swung around to face his opponent. He began throwing fists at Makarov, causing cuts and bruises to turn to blood and bone. Dick let out all of his strength, all of his rage, all of his pain. He focused it all onto his fists slamming into the Arab. Dick was throwing so many punches that he began to lose control. Dick threw one punch that caused Makarov's nose to crack, breaking the bone. Dick threw another that caused another crack in his jaw, causing teeth to fly out of his mouth.

Dick clenched his fists together to contain himself. He let out a loud scream and gouged his thumbs into Makarov's eyes. Blood poured from his eye sockets, onto Dick's hands. Dick drove his thumbs deep into Makarov's skull, until he felt bone. Then Dick ripped his hands out of his opponent's head and stood up. He turned to face the crowd around him. They were all silent, a few hushed voices whispering to one another. _"Holy shit, did you see that?" "Dick is fucking crazy." "He gauged his fucking eyes out, man."_

Dick ran a frustrated hand through his long, sweaty hair. It smeared blood across his forehead.

"And the winner is...Dick Grayson!"

The crowd began booing, calling out insults about Dick. _"He's a cheat!" "All he does is play dead, just like his parents!" "Ali let him win!"_

Dick listened and smirked as he watched someone unlock the cage door. He knew each and every one of these guys watching him had lost a bet tonight because of him.


	2. Chapter 2: Hell is Home

**Chpt. II: Hell is Home**

Dick opened the office door and switched on the light. The light flickered, but nonetheless illuminated the room. The room he entered used to be a security guard's office before the subways were abandoned. It had a few file cabinets around the wall. There was a desk with a rusty metal chair on wheels behind it. On the desk was a computer system. It had already been smashed in. There was a blood stain on the desk. Dick didn't know whose blood it was.

This was where he lived.

Dick walked behind the desk and sat at the chair. He raised his feet up on the desk and laid back. He looked up at the clock that hung on the wall over the door. It was ten minutes before midnight. Rodrick should've dropped off the winnings from the fight already.

Dick pulled open a drawer from the desk and pulled out the bundled up cash he had been saving for the past year from the fights. He knew how much he had. He had counted the money more times than he could remember. It was probably enough. But this last fight's earnings would guarantee him a ticket out of the subways. It was the quickest way out of there.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Dick looked up to find a tall, skinny boy leaning up against the door frame. He looked a few years older than Dick. Everyone here was a boy. Some were really young, and some were older. Some seemed like they had been here all their lives, fighting, training, eating the corpses of kids who just couldn't cut the hard life.

The boy standing at the door was bald with a few tattoos down his neck and forearms. He wore a torn muscle shirt and some faded cargo jeans. He was chewing something again. He was always chewing something. Dick never had the balls to ask what the hell he found that was so damn chewy down here.

"You're late, Rodrick," Dick said.

Rodrick smirked. "I'm usually early."

Dick shrugged. "Change is unsettling."

Rodrick nodded, reaching for something behind him. "Damn straight," he said. He pulled out a wad of cash from the waistband of his shorts and tossed it at Dick. Dick caught the cash and began counting it.

"It took longer to collect the winnings," Rodrick explained. "Everyone had their money on the Arab dude, so you can imagine how many of those scumbags tried to hide and bullshit their way out of paying."

Dick nodded, still counting the money.

Rodrick crossed his arms and began tapping his fingers against his forearms. Dick could feel Rodrick's stare burning into the top of his skull. It was a lot of money Rodrick had tossed Dick.

"Guess how many people bet on you, Dick."

Dick continued counting the money.

"I'll give you a hint: you knocked out more teeth than that."

Dick nodded, still counting the money. Rodrick cleared his throat. Dick knew he was stalling. He was waiting to say something. Or do something.

"I've never seen you fight like that before," Rodrick said in a quieter voice.

Dick stopped counting the cash for a moment. He then continued counting again. "You haven't seen all of my fights."

Rodrick sat up from the door frame and walked up to the desk, arms still crossed. His tattoos flexed with his lean muscles. "Well, you haven't exactly been in enough cage matches for me to see a whole lot."

Dick laughed, still counting. "Do you think I want to be in those cages?"

"I don't know, tonight it almost seemed like you enjoyed gouging the eyes out of that son of a bitch!" Rodrick cried. He caught himself and closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. He looked straight at Dick. Dick wouldn't look up. "I don't want you to turn into a cold blooded killer like the rest of these guys."

Dick set the money down. He stood up from his chair. "Rodrick, these fights are all we have. Without them, nobody stands a chance down in these subways."

Rodrick nodded. "Yeah, I get that, but that's why we set up two fight divisions. The Amateur League was set up for the younger and smaller guys to fight and get money too!"

"Yeah, but the Pro League earnings are so much more than the Amateur League."

"Dick, they put killers in those cages. I've seen mercenaries snap people's necks. I once saw a ninja kill a guy quicker than you could say 'holy shit'." Rodrick stepped closer, speaking in a more hushed voice. "And I know you've heard about the crocodile monster that they tried to stick in the cage."

Dick shook his head and sat back down. He continued to count the money. "Like I said, I'm in it for the quick cash."

Rodrick rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. He seemed to be frustrated. "Dick, you and I both know this is more about the cash. You're looking for some sort of redemption, and you think by making yourself a legend down here you'll come to peace with yourself. But all this blood you're spilling, all this pain you put yourself through, it's not worth it. You're better than these assholes. Don't stoop to their level."

Dick stopped counting and looked up at Rodrick. "I'm sorry, 'redemption'?" Dick asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Rodrick shrugged. "I dunno, that's the bullshit I've been hearing from people. They think it's something to do with your parents."

Dick shook his head. "Nobody down here knows a thing about me. So don't think for a moment you can rely on their lies to get through to me."

Rodrick nodded. "Dick, I care about you. I'm worried about you. This silent warrior act isn't good. It puts up a wall around yourself, leaving you without friends. And trust me, down here, you can't afford to not have friends."

"Down here, you can't afford to let these psychos too close to you," Dick shot out.

Rodrick sighed. "Dick, all you have are enemies."

Dick finally finished counting the cash. He set the money aside and looked up at Rodrick. "And?"

"You need a friend," Rodrick said. "You need me. I'm the best there is for you."

"All you are is the guy is gives me the cash from my matches," Dick responded harshly.

"I'm the guy who would warn you if these maniacs were about to riot up here to try to kill you," Rodrick shot back.

Dick raised an eyebrow. He shook his head. "Now you just sound crazy." Dick pulled open the drawer of the desk and grabbed the remaining money he had saved. He stuck that and the money he had just counted into an envelope and stuck it in the back pocket of his pants. He stood up. He saw Rodrick's eyes light up as he had pulled out the money.

"How much money was in tonight's earnings?" Rodrick asked.

Dick smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Rodrick shook his head. "No, really. How much?"

"If I told you, I'm sure you'd go nuts and try to take my money," Dick said.

From outside of the office room, Dick could hear echoes of shouts. They were getting closer.

Dick shoved past Rodrick and stuck his head through the door. He could see a large group of guys walking up the stairs of the subway lobby. They were all shouting, as if protesting.

Dick turned back to Rodrick. "What did you say about a riot?" he asked.

Rodrick put his hands up defensively. "Bro, I'm sorry, I didn't want to, but Nolan told me to keep you up here long enough so they could make their way here."

Dick eyes narrowed at Rodrick. "Really? You'd fuck me over for them? For Nolan?" Dick ran back to the desk and grabbed the nightstick he kept taped under the desk. He knew he'd use it someday.

"Nolan threatened me, man!" Rodrick cried.

Dick walked up to Rodrick and kicked his leg, dislocating his kneecap. Dick swung the nightstick over Rodrick's head and slammed on it hard. Dick looked down at Rodrick. "And to think I almost believed that bullshit about you looking out for me."

Dick kneeled down and went to the doorway. He peeked behind the door to see where the group was. At the top of the stairs he could see Nolan standing over the crowd. He wore a long dark trench coat and black fingerless gloves. His hair was jet black and combed over to one side, creating a lopsided pompadour. He was leading the riot.

Dick's hand curled into a tight fist. When he introduced himself as the leader of the men of the subways, Dick knew he was a fucked up guy. Even when he would portray himself as a genuinely nice, sincere and caring guy looking out for the group. He was the Devil, and these were his minions.

Dick took a deep breath and made his way across the lobby kneeling. He stopped at some metal benches that gave him cover. He stayed there for a moment to work out where he'd go next.

Nolan's voice was booming across the large lobby. Dick couldn't help but listen to what he had to say.

"Gentlemen, we can NOT let Dick Grayson get away with his crimes against our community! He hasn't paid our taxes, he hasn't divided up his rations evenly, and he's been fighting his cage matches unfairly!" The crowd beneath Nolan roared at each crime that Nolan listed. "Justice will be served! Dick Grayson will do his time!"

Dick rolled his eyes. All that he said wasn't true. Dick paid his taxes that Nolan and his goons collected every month to spend on the silly little black market they set up on the other side of the subways. Dick paid for his rations fair and square, which wasn't required to be divided if he had paid for it on his one. And Dick sure as hell didn't fight unfairly. He could've killed his opponents if he wanted to.

Dick gripped his nightstick tightly and continued moving. He crawled slowly down the bench. He looked across the lobby to find another set of stairs that led up to a subway tunnel. He could probably make his way there and find an exit. Dick felt the thick envelope tucked in his back pocket. He knew he had enough to go somewhere and start a new life.

Dick glanced back at Nolan and his followers. They were all focused on Nolan. Nolan's back was still turned to Dick. He might just have a chance at escaping.

Dick took 5 steps from the bench when someone shouted "HE'S GETTING AWAY!"

Dick didn't take time to think about it. He stood up and ran. He ran faster than he ever thought he could. He ran up the stairs and around the right corner, down the dark subway tunnel. He continued running, nightstick in hand. He felt the envelope in his back pocket and tried to adjust it so it wouldn't fall out. He lost focus of where he was in the dark.

Dick took one step too close to the left, tripped, then fell down onto the railings.

Dick wasn't too hurt. He felt worse pain earlier. He stood up, ignoring the pain from his ribs. They might have been broken.

Suddenly Dick felt a strong grip on his collar. The hand yanked Dick around to face him. It was dark, so Dick couldn't see who he was. All Dick could tell was that he was tall and large. Dick saw more people standing behind him. Some of them were up above him, and some had went down onto the railings.

Dick was blinded by a light. He squinted his eyes to try to see. Then someone lit another light. Then another. Soon there was tons of lights all shining everywhere, lighting up the tunnel. One was held by Nolan himself.

Nolan walked to the guy holding Dick. He laid a hand on his shoulder. "Alright Sebastian, well done," he said. "I'll take it from here."

The brute stood aside as Nolan stepped up to Dick. Nolan reached inside of his trench coat and pulled out a gun from a holster on his belt. He pointed it at Dick. The corner of Nolan's mouth rose to a grin.

Dick began to breath heavily. "Nolan," he started.

Nolan's grin rose even more menacingly. "Dick," he responded.

Dick shook his head. "You don't want to do this."

"No, I don't," Nolan said. He turned to his followers behind him. "But you've committed several crimes, and our people seem to find you guilty!" he shouted, raising his hands up to the audience. He quickly turned back to Dick and pointed the gun at him. "So yeah. I have to do this."

Dick tightened his grip on his nightstick. He slowly moved it behind his back, hoping no one noticed it yet. "You think you're doing a service to these kids when in reality all you are is a psychopath."

Nolan's eyebrow rose. "If I'm a psychopath, why was I chosen to be their leader?"

Dick's eyes widened. "They didn't! They were all homeless and alone down here, all scavenging for their next meal when you came around with your goons and money you stole from Cobblepot and turned this place from a refuge to something sick!"

"Someone had to take control!" Nolan roared. "If I hadn't come around and built this city up, everyone here would be starving still!"

"Most still starve," Dick said. "You didn't come here and built a city. You created a hell!"

"Hell is all we have!" Nolan cried. "Hell is all we are! Hell is home."

Dick shook his head. His voice dropped. "No it isn't," he said softly. "I'm taking my earnings and I'm going topside to start fresh. I'm tired of living like a barbaric rat under the rule of your dictatorship. I'm leaving this hellhole." Dick looked up at the crowd. "If anyone feels the same, they're welcome to come along with me!" Dick addressed the crowd.

"If anyone feels the same," Nolan started, "they're going to get a bullet in their head. They'll be guilty for rebelling and will be sentenced to death by my trigger." Nolan cocked the gun and took a step closer to Dick. "And then I'll put a bullet in you."

Dick stayed silent. He knew this part. Nolan was now in control of the situation. Nolan would win his followers over through intimidation and fear. He would taunt Dick, look as if he's ready to kill him. He would get very close to Nolan. Dick could attack then, assuming no one else had a gun pointed at Dick in the shadows.

Unless Nolan didn't want to try to kill him. Perhaps he had other plans for Dick.

Nolan took a step forward. Then another. He got close enough where the barrel of the gun was pointed against Dick's chest. His ribs still hurt. Dick tried not to flinch. He didn't want to show he was injured. Or look as if he was afraid.

Nolan kept the gun on Dick and turned back, addressing the crowd once more. "I, Nolan Drake, speak on behalf of the people of Old Gotham's underground! I stand before Dick Grayson, who the people have found guilty of tax resistance, overstocking of rations, and foul combat in the Cage of Chaos on numerous occasions!" The crowd began to get rowdy. "Dick Grayson here has earned tons of money winning fights he should have been disqualified from. His earnings are not rightfully his and must be returned to each individual who lost money to Dick Grayson."

Dick smirked. "The cash is mine, Nolan. A fight's a fight. I earned it fair and square."

Nolan turned back to Dick. "Fair and square?" he turned back to the audience, devilish grin on his face. He turned back to Dick. "Since that's how you earn cash around here, how about I fight you for it?" The crowd began to murmur. "I win, I distribute the money amongst the people."

Dick scoffed. "Right, and if I kick your ass, I'm taking my hundred grand and hauling my ass out of here."

Nolan nodded. He set his gun down onto the floor and kicked it to the side. "Since you claim to fight 'fair and square', let's treat this as a cage match and set your nightstick that you've been holding behind your back on the ground."

Dick cursed under his breath. He set the nightstick down and pushed it to his right. He stood back up and got into his fighting position.

Nolan shrugged his trench coat off and tossed it to a nearby goon. He wore a black t-shirt with a chain around his neck. It had some sort of pendant on it. Dick noticed the military combat boots Nolan was wearing. They looked brutal to be kicked with.

"On one side," one boy called from above the subway rails, "the leader of Old Gotham's underground, the great and fearless Nolan Drake!"

Nolan's followers began cheering and chanting his name. Nolan simply stared into Dick's soul.

"On the other side, the cowardly boy running from home, the orphaned Dick Grayson!"

The audience began booing at Dick's name once more, just like during the earlier cage fight. Dick had no idea what sort of fighter Nolan was. He didn't believe for a second it would be any more "fair" than the fights Dick had fought before.

Suddenly, Dick heard a boy yell "DING DING DING!"

Dick reacted instantly. He ran up to Nolan and swung his leg back, creating a roundhouse kick. He kicked Nolan's face, stunning Nolan momentarily. As Nolan took a few steps back to regain his stance, Dick threw punches at Nolan. Dick didn't give Nolan a chance to attack or counter.

Dick threw one last punch at Nolan's face. Nolan's reflexes were lightning fast at this moment. He caught Dick's fist with one hand. Dick countered by throwing another punch at his face with his free hand. Nolan caught that fist too. Nolan rose his leg and kicked Dick's torso, sending Dick flying back. Dick tripped and fell onto the ground next to his nightstick.

Dick turned and reached for it, but in that moment Dick heard a click.

Dick shut his eyes and silently cursed to himself. This was not the end. It couldn't be the end. Dick could make it out.

Dick slowly turned to face his opponent. Nolan stood above him from afar, gun pointed at Dick. He had on his evil grin. "So we both had the same idea," he said calmly.

Dick slowly pulled the nightstick to his body. He wasn't going to let this stop him. He had come this far.

Nolan kept the gun pointed at Dick. Clearly he was trying to create tension between him and Dick, possibly making a show for his followers. He wanted to seem more ruthless to sustain his image. Or he really wanted to kill Dick.

Suddenly a clanging sound echoed through the tunnels, as if someone had dropped a metal ball.

Dick looked back behind Nolan. Nolan turned to see what had happened.

Someone shouted "GRENADE!"

The next moment went dark for Dick.

* * *

When Dick opened his eyes, he was momentarily blind. His vision was blurry and impaired. Dick's sense of hearing had been muffled. Dick struggled to stand up. He stood up for a brief moment and crumbled back onto the ground, still weak from the blast. Dick laid there for a few moments, trying to regain his strength. For a second, he thought he felt something touch his back. He was too weak to look.

Finally, Dick felt ready to move again. Dick rose back onto his feet. He had a slight limp, but managed to stand on his two feet.

People had dispersed all around the tunnels. Some were laying injured near where the grenade went off. Those closer weren't so lucky.

Some had ran amuck through the tunnels. Dick watched as people ran lost and hopelessly. He couldn't spot where Nolan had went off to.

Dick turned and spotted not the coward leader, but the backstabbing liar. Rodrick was running down the tunnels carrying Dick's money envelope.

"Rodrick!" Dick called out in anger. He ran after Rodrick, nightstick in hand. Dick's leg still hurt like hell as he ran. He didn't focus on his pain, however. He was focused on the money.

Dick ran and followed Rodrick through a doorway that led to a flight of stairs. Rodrick was in arm's reach of Dick when Dick tripped on one step. Dick regained his footing again, but Rodrick was a few feet farther now.

Rodrick emerged onto the streets above, followed by Dick. Dick chased after Rodrick down the sidewalk. The streets were crowded at this time of night. City lights were shining bright, illuminating the thief in the night. Rodrick shoved past people. Dick had to do the same.

Rodrick ran onto the road, trying to cross the street without looking both ways. He was hit by a car before Dick managed to reach the road.

When Dick got there, he saw Rodrick laying limp on the ground in front of the car. The driver stepped out, hands on his head. The driver was panicking.

Dick acted instantly. He ran onto the street, eyes wide open. He covered his hands over his mouth, pulling off his best shocked face. "No, Rick!" he cried. He turned to the driver. "Why did you hit my brother?"

The driver began to stammer. He cried to formulate some sort of explanation. Dick wasn't paying attention. He turned back to the street goers that saw the accident. "Someone call 911!"

The driver turned and began to dial. Dick looked down at Rodrick. He saw the envelope in Rodrick's loose grip.

Dick kneeled down by Rodrick and bent down low. "Remember me," Dick whispered in his ear. "Remember the boy who escaped. Remember my name."

Dick snatched the money from Rodrick's lifeless hand and stuffed it in his back pocket. He walked right over Rodrick, disappearing into the streets of Gotham.


	3. Chapter 3: Starting Over

**Chpt. III: Starting Over**

Dick woke up when he began to sense the sunlight burn through his eyelids. He sat up on the park bench. He felt tired. His entire body was sore. Sleeping on a metal bench didn't help.

Dick sat up from the bench and began walking down the street. After the accident, Dick kept walking till he saw the park bench. He crashed there for the night, not hesitating to rest. He wasn't concerned about police questioning him. He wasn't even worried about Rodrick finding him. His biggest concern was Nolan & whatever goons he might've sent after Dick.

Dick walked across the street & made his way to a nearby bus stop. He stood casually, waiting for the next bus. He had no idea when it would come or where it would go. He just needed to get out of Gotham.

Dick glanced around him. Next to him stood an older man wearing a suit. His blonde hair was combed over to one side. He carried a briefcase. There was a bench where a rather beautiful woman in a brown leather jacket & skin tight jeans tucked in combat boots sat. Next to her was another man. His dark hair was short & curly. He wore a casual button up vest over a button up shirt & a tie. He wore thick framed glasses. He was carrying a messenger bag.

Dick slowly looked back at the man standing closest to him. He wore a watch on his wrist. Dick was able to read the time. It was 11:13 am.

Dick tapped his foot, waiting patiently for the bus. He wondered about what he'd do once he got to where he wanted. But where did he want to go? He didn't know what he wanted at this point. He made it out of the subways, escaping Nolan & his twisted world. He got his money. He could go anywhere, do anything, be anyone.

The question was who?

Dick had spent so much time creating a plan to get out from the undergrounds that he hadn't thought of what he'd do when he got out. He spent too much time in the dark like a rat. He needed to start thinking like a guy again.

He wondered when the last time he saw Cheyenne was. Dick missed her. He really needed to see a familiar face. The idea of her was comforting for Dick. It actually brought a smile to his face, something he never thought he'd do again.

Suddenly a bus had appeared in front of Dick. Dick blinked for a moment. He was lost in thought & hadn't seen the bus pull up.

The doors on the bus opened up. The man closest to Dick walked onto the bus. Dick stepped aside for the woman to step on. She smiled and nodded to him. Then Dick stepped onto the bus.

Dick knew he needed to pay to get on. He reached for his envelope to get the money. As he did this, he suddenly remembered something. He opened the envelope, confirming his thought: all he had were hundred dollar bills.

Dick silently cursed to himself. He had completely forgotten that he needed change from the money.

Dick looked up at the bus driver. He was a burly man with a large, scruffy beard. He didn't look like a reasonable man.

Suddenly Dick felt a hand on his shoulders. He looked up & saw the man in glasses step up. "I'm paying for him," he said.

Dick watched as the man dropped two dollars & some quarters into the money slot next to the bus driver. The man then walked down the aisle to take his seat.

Dick turned back to the driver. The driver gave a slight grin & gestured to the seats with his head.

Dick let out a sigh of relief & walked down the aisle. He saw that there was only one seat available. It was towards the middle of the bus, right next to the man with glasses.

Dick bit his lip. He hesitated to sit down. He considered standing up, but still walked over.

Dick slowly sat down next to the man. He patted his thighs casually, hoping the man wouldn't look at Dick. He looked straight ahead. Dick could feel the man's eyes burn into his skull like heat vision.

Dick slowly looked back to the man. The man had on a friendly smile.

Dick smiled back. "Thanks," he said softly.

The man nodded. "No problem," he said.

Dick faced front again. For some reason, Dick felt incredibly nervous next to the man. He didn't know what it was about him that unsettled him. So far, the man had been nice. Maybe it had been so long since Dick had met another decent human being.

"Hey," the man next to Dick said. "Is your leg alright?"

Dick turned to the man with a questioning look, then glanced down at his leg. It was the one that he injured in the blast. The limp had healed overnight. It wasn't that bad. But his pant leg was still torn.

"I got mugged," Dick lied. "Some big guys saw me alone, they attacked me, but I got away."

The man nodded."I'm sorry," he said. "Did they go after that money you pulled out in front of the bus?" he asked.

Dick simply nodded. The man nodded too. "I don't mean to pry, but how does a kid alone in Gotham manage to walk around with that much cash?"

Dick's palms grew sweaty. He turned back to the man. "Inheritance," Dick simply said.

The man nodded with a slight smile. "From your parents?" he asked.

"Aunt," Dick responded quickly.

"Oh," the man simply said. He stared down at his bag. He seemed nervous as well. Dick couldn't help but grin slightly.

Suddenly the man came up with another response. "Where are you headed?" he asked.

_Dammit,_ Dick thought to himself. He had no idea where the bus was going. He needed to come up with a cover story.

"I, uh, was living with my aunt for a while," Dick started. "But now I can't live there anymore. So I called up an uncle of mine to let me visit for a bit and hopefully stay."

"Oh, you have family in Metropolis?" the man asked.

Dick had a mini heart attack. He was headed to Metropolis? "Yeah. Metropolis."

The man nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I live there," the man said. "I'm from Kansas but I moved to the city last year. I'm only here in Gotham because I needed to find a story to cover for the Daily Planet."

Dick nodded. "A journalist, nice," he said. "Did you get your story?"

The man shook his head. "Nothing came up. I'm going back without anything for my publisher."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dick said softly. He genuinely felt bad for the guy. Dick wondered if he'd lose his job at the Planet. "I hope it all works out."

The man smiled. "Thank you," he said. "And I hope it works out with your uncle," he said.

Dick nodded back. He faced the front again, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. Not that he wasn't enjoying it. The man turned out to be really nice.

"I'm Clark," Dick heard the man say.

Dick turned to him & found the man holding his hand out. Dick looked at the hand & back at him and smiled. "John," he said, shaking his hand.

Clark shook Dick's hand for a moment longer. "John," he repeated. Clark removed his hand & sat back. They sat there for a few brief moments. Then Clark spoke again. "The story I was hoping to cover," he started, "it's something of an urban legend. I don't know, maybe you might be able to at least give me some sort of background for me when I get to the Daily Planet."

Dick nodded. "Maybe. It depends on what it is."

"The story about Dick Grayson."

Dick's heart skipped a beat. He was feeling panicky again. _Get it together,_ Dick thought to himself. _Play it cool. You'll be alright._

Dick simply nodded at what Clark had said.

"Have you heard about it?" Clark asked.

Dick raised an eyebrow. "About Dick Grayson? I don't know, I haven't heard much about that guy. People have mentioned him, but that's about it."

Clark nodded. "I heard he was part of a family circus. I forget the name. But during a show one night, someone had set the tent on fire. People died, including the boy's parents. Police suspected it was a murder. So they tried to investigate, but nothing came up. The case was closed & the boy was left an orphan." Clark turned to Dick. "I was hoping to locate the orphanage where Dick Grayson grew up. From there, I had the slightest hope that they might be able to tell me where I could find him."

Dick nodded slowly. He felt his fingers tingle with a nervous feeling. Dick forced himself to calm down. "What for?"

Clark let out a small chuckle. "To interview the boy," he said.

Dick's heart slowed down just a bit. He breathed easier. He grinned slightly. Then a question popped into Dick's head. "Wait, why did you say this was something of an urban legend?" Dick asked.

Clark's smile slowly faded away. He bit his lip, as if unsure how to phrase it. He managed to find the words. "When I found the orphanage, it was a dead end. Police officials had sent me to the right one, they were sure of it. But the orphanage claimed they never had Dick Grayson living there." Clark ran a ran through his curly hair. "It was like Dick Grayson was nothing but a myth."

Dick turned away. He fought to hide his emotions. He didn't want to show anything. He didn't want to feel anything. But he couldn't help but regret what he had done to Mother Louise. He wished things had ended differently.

"But it doesn't matter," Clark said, breaking through Dick's thought. "I don't have the story. My editor won't get anything."

Dick turned to Clark. "What will he do when you show up empty handed?"

Clark took a deep breath. "Well, I had actually proposed we send someone down here to get the story in the first place. He decided to send me because I came up with the idea. So it won't look good for me to not have any sort of story."

Dick nodded. He couldn't help but feel sorry for Clark. This man was the first person Dick had met in a very long time that didn't deserve to be punished for a mistake. He didn't find anything to write a story on. It was Dick's fault; he covered his tracks well. Now Clark was going home to his boss without a story. What if he lost his job? This man might not have anywhere to go. He might lose everything. Just like Dick lost everything.

But Dick was back up on his feet, ready to be in the world again. Now all Dick had to figure out was where in the world he would go. He hadn't come up with a plan that far out yet. He needed to figure out what he would do now that he had another chance to start over.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that's what he would start doing. He'd give people another chance. Starting with Clark.

Suddenly the bus stopped. It had pulled up to a transit center.

Dick turned to Clark as he stood up. "Alright," Clark started. "This is my stop. I'm riding another bus to Metropolis. This bus is gonna make some detours before arriving at the city." Clark held his hand out. "It was nice talking to you, John."

Dick shook Clark's hand, smiling. "You too, Clark."

Clark smiled a bright smile back. Clark removed his hand, swung his bag over his shoulder & walked down the aisle.

Dick watched as the man walked away from him. A few more steps, & Dick would never see that man again. And that man would never get a story to his boss. And he might lose his job. Then his home. Then everything else.

Dick shot up from his seat. "Wait up, Clark!" Dick called.


	4. Chapter 4: Urban Legend

**Chpt. IV: Urban Legend**

Dick watched as Clark pulled out his ring of keys and opened his apartment door. Clark stepped inside first, then gestured for Dick to come in.

Dick had chased after Clark once they got off the bus. Dick said he'd tag along with Clark, wanting a small tour of the city. Then once he'd get word from his "uncle" that he was ready for Dick, he'd leave. In the meantime, Dick offered to help out with Clark's story.

So Clark showed him around Metropolis on their bus ride. Clark eventually invited Dick up to his apartment for some lunch. Dick was hiding it well, but he was incredibly hungry. He didn't remember the last time he had a proper meal.

Dick stepped inside of Clark's apartment. The doorway led to the kitchen, which was big with an island to sit at and eat dinner on. Going past the kitchen was a living room with a few couches and a coffee table set up in front of a huge entertainment system. A flat screen TV with large speakers and a stereo. Over to the side was a desk, probably for Clark's work.

Clark took a seat at the island. "Come on, have a seat," he said with a smile. "Make yourself at home."

Dick nodded and slid onto a stool on the island. He gave a slight smile, still uneasy in being in the nice apartment.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Clark asked.

"Just water," Dick said softly. He was still trying to figure out how much money Clark made from his job to afford such a nice home.

Dick was so lost in thought that he almost didn't notice Clark set the glass of water out in front of him. Dick took a sip as Clark sat down. He suddenly had a notepad in his hand.

"Alright," Clark said. "I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to get this started. Tell me about Dick Grayson."

Dick took another sip, quickly trying to figure out how to do this. "Well, I don't know where to start," Dick said.

Clark tapped a pen by his notepad. "How about when you first met him?"

Dick nodded. He took a deep breath. "I was at the orphanage a little bit before him. I was 8 when my parents died. Not too long after that, he showed up. I knew who he was before he knew who I was. He was like a celebrity to me. But we had more in common than I realized." Dick took another sip. "He was sort of lonely growing up, having been a circus acrobat. He didn't really make much friends his own age since he was always performing. His parents were all he really had. Mine were all I had too. He and I got along, me being a fan and all. He and I soon became great friends.

"He and I were friends at the orphanage together for maybe a year or two when someone new came along. A girl. She was a year younger than Dick and I, but just like every other orphan when first arriving, she was shy. Dick and I welcomed her to the orphanage the way most kids hadn't. We made a good impression on her and she was thankful for us being so kind."

Dick took a deep breathing, suddenly regretting ever having agreed to telling Clark any of this. He continued anyway. "We all grew closer. We got older. Things changed a little bit. Dick sort of began to grow feelings for this girl. I understood, she really was gorgeous. maybe a year later, someone had adopted her, leaving Dick and I back to where we had started: with just each other. I guess he really loved her, because not knowing where she was anymore kind of drove him a bit crazy, I guess. He stopped sleeping. He wouldn't eat. He wouldn't talk to me the same anymore. Sometimes he'd even disappear for a while, and no one had any clue where he went.

"I remember, one rainy night, I woke up to the sound of thunder and sat up from my bed. I saw Dick sitting on the floor against his bed. The moonlight from the window above his bed sort of cast a light over him. I could see a few pieces of paper laid out in front of him. One or two were some gruesome drawings. One seemed like a blueprint of some sort with markings of his own. He also had a list of what looked like names on another sheet of paper. On his lap, he was writing a letter.

"I remember seeing all of this and I got really scared. I guess I might have made a sound or something, because Dick suddenly looked up at me and waved his hand around. He told me to go back to sleep, and to forget I had seen anything. I asked why. He said not to worry. I was incredibly worried though. I was scared. I was afraid he'd do something to me, so I laid back in my bed and turned so my back faced him and shut my eyes tight.

"I woke up the next morning and found Dick gone. I expected to find the letter he wrote on the bed, but it wasn't there. I had asked Mother Louise if she had seen Dick. She brought me into her office. When I walked in, I saw Dick sitting at a chair in front of her desk. He was crying. Hell, he was more than crying. He was breaking down. He had blood stains all over his shirt. He had some blood on his face too. It was dried up, like Dick was like that for a few hours.

"Mother Louise told me that she was only going to tell me this because I was the only close friend to Dick. She showed me a letter; the one Dick had written the night before. It had said something about Dick not returning because he was going to do something he should've done a long time ago. He confessed his love for our friend. He said he was sorry. Mother Louise explained that Dick had murdered a mob boss by the name of Tony Zucco. It turns out he was behind the circus fire that killed his parents. Dick went to exact revenge on the guy. It's a miracle he didn't die doing so.

"Mother Louise told me that Dick had showed up at the orphanage in the middle of the night after he had done it. Apparently he had asked to do a confession and begged for forgiveness. She brought him inside and had him sleep in her office until the next morning."

Dick was about to continue when he heard the door behind him start to unlock. He turned to looked back. He watched as the doorknob rotated and the door swung open. A pretty red headed lady walked in with large grocery bags. She probably didn't see Dick, because she began to stumble and tried to kick the door closed. "Clark!" she called.

Dick watched as Clark ran over to her aid. "Coming," he said. He took her bags and set them on the kitchen counter.

"Ah, that's better," the woman started. She walked over to the office desk across the kitchen. "Okay, so I was thinking tonight I would cook Italian, a little pasta with Alfredo, some salads maybe." She was beginning to set her purse down when she noticed Dick. "Oh," she said softly. "Hi."

Dick stood up and walked over to her. "Hi, I'm John," Dick said, almost forgetting to not say Dick. He held his hand out.

The woman smiled softly and shook Dick's hand back. "Lois Lane," she said. Dick noticed her eyes glance over at Clark. Dick turned back to Clark and smiled, standing next to Lois.

Clark was putting up the groceries, oblivious that the two were staring at him. "I don't think I've ever had Alfredo pasta," he said when he finished. He turned around and saw Dick and Lois staring at him. He blinked. "What?" he asked.

Lois cleared her throat, walking back over to the kitchen. "Nothing, I didn't realize we'd have guests. That's fine though, I can cook dinner for three tonight." She began pulling out her groceries again to begin cooking.

Dick held his hands up defensively. "Oh, no, don't worry," he started. "Clark only invited me up as a secondary source for a story."

Lois turned back around and faced Dick. She then turned to Clark. "Secondary source?" she asked.

Clark nodded. "Yeah, that story I went to Gotham for. John here is giving me some good background on it."

"Oh, the acrobat kid?" she asked. She turned back to Dick. "And you're a...secondary source?"

Dick nodded. "Yes, ma'am." Dick was hoping he'd be able to drop the discussion quickly and leave before he went any further with the story. He cleared his throat. "Well, it's getting a bit late, and I wouldn't want to intrude on your dinner together, so I think I'll get going."

"But John, you said your uncle would come for you, right?" Clark asked. "Maybe you should wait a little while longer."

Dick bit his lip. He glanced back at Lois, who was shooting Clark a stare with heat vision. He turned back to Clark. "It's fine, really. I'll wait at the bus stop for my uncle."

Clark shook his head. "I would feel terrible kicking you out. Please, stay."

Dick scratched the back of his head awkwardly. There's no way in hell he could stay. Lois clearly didn't want company. Maybe he can kick him out. "I'll stay, if it's all the same to Ms. Lane," Dick said, gesturing to Lois.

Lois stopped what she was doing at the kitchen and turned back to Dick. "Clark is right, we can't throw you on streets," she said. "You're staying for dinner."

_Dammit,_ Dick thought to himself. "Fantastic," he said out loud with a smile.

Dick sat at his seat at the table and looked at the plate before him. The warm soft pasta was layered with the creamy Alfredo sauce. There was grilled seasoned chicken under the pasta, steamy and hot. Dick could smell cheese somewhere in his dish. He couldn't see it, but he was dying to taste it.

Dick forgot how long it had been since he had a proper meal. The food he got from the Underground wasn't the best or the healthiest. In fact, he had often wondered where the raw meat had even come from. He pushed the sickening thoughts and memories from his mind, focusing on the plate in front of him.

Dick grabbed the fork and began eating. He took small, slow bites to maintain a normal image with his appetite. He was savoring every second of it.

Dick began asking Lois and Clark personal questions. Things about their lives and work, anything to keep the subject off of himself.

As time went on, the three of them managed to eat their dinner without anything spoken that Dick didn't want spoken.

Lois stood up with her plate and reached for Clark and Dick's. "I'll do the dishes," she said.

Dick nodded, smiling, and watched Lois walk to the sink and start washing the dishes.

Clark cleared his throat, calling Dick's attention. Clark leaned in close, making Dick lean in closer. "You never finished your story," he said.

Dick bit his lip. He sat back and shook his head. "That was it," he said in a normal voice. "That morning, at the orphanage, that was the day I ever saw him. He left the orphanage, and Mother Louise promised to keep him safe, and give him a chance to run away from the law."

Clark nodded. He sat back on his desk, looking down at the notepad where he was taking notes about the story. He stared at it, not with a look of accomplishment, but almost like a look a shame.

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you wanted?" Dick asked. "Can you go with what I gave you?"

Clark took a second to respond, as if in deep thought. He shook his head and tore apart the entire notepad. "I can't use this," he said.

Dick's heart skipped a beat. He worried if Clark had somehow caught on to Dick's bullshit story. Were there any flaws in his lie? Dick didn't think so. Dick spent so much time wondering what he did wrong, he almost didn't realize that Clark had managed to rip apart an entire notepad with ease. But Dick disregarded it.

Clark sighed. "John, this guy was your friend…is...your friend. There's no way I can feel right with releasing this exclusive story on someone with such a traumatic life."

Dick began to breath with ease. He still put on a concerned look. "But what about your story? You might lose your job."

Clark waved his hand away, shrugging it off. He pushed his seat back from the table and stood up. "I'm going to use the restroom."

Dick nodded and watched Clark walk away. He glanced around the kitchen, hoping to find some sort of clock with an indication of the time. He looked out the window. He could see a red sunset in the sky. The silhouette of Metropolis was visible against the blood red sky.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Dick heard Lois let out an exasperated sigh. "One minute," she called over the running water at the sink.

Dick got up from his seat and walked over to the door. "Don't worry Ms. Lane, I've got it," Dick said, smiling a charming smile to Lois. Lois smiled back briefly, then went back to the dishes.

Dick unlocked the door and opened it. An old man in a suit stood behind the door. He had gray hair and a thick mustache. He looked at Dick, then behind Dick, then back at him. He didn't seem sure what he needed.

"Good evening, son," the man spoke in a British accent. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth of Wayne Manor. I'm looking for a young man by the name of Dick Gra-"

Dick shushed the man before he continued. Dick glanced back behind the door where Lois was washing the dishes. She didn't stop.

Dick let out a sigh of relief and turned back to the man. "I'm Dick," he said in a hushed voice. "If THEY ask, my name is John," Dick gestured to inside of the apartment.

The British man nodded in agreement. Dick took a step back into the apartment. "Alright, my ride is here," he called to Lois. "I'll be going."

Lois swung her wet hand around from the sink, waving goodbye. "It was a pleasure having you here."

Dick nodded. He glanced back to the direction where Clark had gone. He still hadn't come back. "Tell Clark I said bye," Dick said before walking out and shutting the door behind him.

Dick turned to Alfred in the apartment hallway. "Alright," Dick started. "What is it you want with me at Wayne Manor?"

"I need you at Wayne Manor," said a voice down the hall. It was a deep, American voice, unlike Alfred's British accent.

Dick squinted his eyes, trying to make out the dark silhouette in the shadowy end of the hallway. He couldn't tell who it was.

Alfred let out a sigh behind Dick. "Bruce, must you always be theatrical?"

Dick looked back at Alfred, then back at the silhouette. "Oh, right, sorry," he said. He walked closer to Dick, into the light. Before Dick stood Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire of Gotham. He stood there with his expensive suit, perfectly styled black hair, chiseled chin and built body mass. Dick remembered seeing his face in old magazines down in the underground. When Dick worked out, he always hoped to look like Bruce Wayne. He was a goal, an idol, you could say.

Dick's heart began to pound. Bruce gestured the stairs behind him. "Come, take a ride with me, Dick."


	5. Chapter 5: Playboy

**Chpt. V: Playboy**

Dick followed Bruce Wayne & Alfred outside of the apartment building to their Lincoln parked out in front. Alfred opened the back door for Bruce & Dick & he walked over to the driver's end.

Bruce stepped back. "After you," Bruce said, gesturing for Dick to enter first.

Dick straightened his back, arms crossed. "Mr. Wayne, I'm flattered to go on a ride in your fancy ass ride & all, but I've had a hell of a week. Actually, it's only been a couple of days. I'm not really sure at this point. But I'm a little on edge, so pardon me if I'm hesitant to go on a ride with a stranger."

Bruce smiled. "I'm a stranger?" he asked. "You know who I am, Dick."

Dick let out a frustrated sigh. "Sure, okay, you got a point, but how do YOU know ME? Why come all this way to find me?"

Bruce nodded to the car. "Take a ride with me, & maybe I'll explain it."

Dick looked back at the seat. He turned and looked up at the building where Clark & Lois were. Dick hoped he'd see them again.

Dick turned back to Bruce & nodded. He walked over & slide into the backseat of Bruce Wayne's car. Bruce followed, shutting the door behind him.

Dick took a moment to adjust the inside of the car. The first thing that hit him was the scent. The car smelled so fresh, like a snowy day in a forest. Something Dick had only experience a few times while traveling in the circus. Dick took a moment & breathed in deeply. A slight smile grew on his face.

"Overwhelming?" Bruce asked.

Dick turned to Bruce. He shrugged. "Just a bit," he responded. "I'm trying to stay whelmed."

The car began to hum as Alfred began driving. The vibration of the car was so miniscule, it was almost unnoticeable.

Dick's hands began to rub against the leather that the seats were made of. The leather was so smooth. For some reason, the leather made Dick think of his old Flying Grayson's costume. Dick shuddered at the thought and pushed the image from his mind.

Bruce pulled out a suitcase from the floor of the car and opened it. Inside were a few documents. Bruce handed them to Dick.

Dick wiped his hands on his jeans before taking the bright white paper. The first document was an adoption letter. It was from Gotham City Orphanage. It was stating that Bruce Wayne was now the legal guardian of Richard John Grayson. Louise Baxter had signed off on it.

Dick looked up at Bruce, confused. "Why would you want to adopt me?" he asked.

Bruce looked at Dick. "Dick, you don't just ask an adult why they're adopting a child."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Alright, first off, I'm not a child, I'm 16 years old. Secondly, I'm asking why why you're adopting ME specifically."

Bruce eyed Dick for a moment. He sighed. "You know a lie when you hear one," he started. "I suppose there's no other way to beat around the bush, so I'll just come out & say it." Bruce began picking at the bottom of his suit jacket with his fingers. "You're a wanted fugitive in Gotham City."

Dick's heart didn't skip a beat. He felt his heart stop beating altogether. Dick had to remind himself to breathe again. Then Bruce continued. "I have a friend in the GCPD, & they recently put out an APB on a Richard "Dick" Grayson. I was told it had something to do with an underground fight club that apparently caused some structural damage to the city's foundation. Some suspects were pulled & questioned. Each of them said that you were the one who caused the damage."

Dick nodded slowly. His hands had curled into fists. _Damn Nolan & Rodrick,_ Dick thought to looked up at Bruce. "That doesn't explain why you're adopting me suddenly."

Bruce let out another frustrated sigh. Dick knew he was pissing Bruce Wayne off. He didn't care. Dick was stubborn; he knew that. He wanted a real answer & was going to get it.

"Dick, my friend & I, we both realize that the whole case is corrupted. In fact, the entire city is corrupted. Old Gotham was JUST as corrupted, so when I heard the blame of the subway explosions were placed on you, I knew it wasn't right. I remembered you, Dick. The Flying Grayson. I saw a couple of your shows. It seemed like magic, the way you flipped & flew through the air. It seemed like instinct for you. As if it was something you were born to do. Like being a Flying Grayson is in your blood. You were inspirational to me at 8 years old. You're older now, but you don't seem capable of dark things."

Dick turned away from Bruce. He tried hard to fight the tears. He managed to force them back & clear his throat. He turned back to Bruce. "You have no idea what it was like down there," he said softly. "You have no idea how dark it made me."

Bruce shook his head. "I know about darkness, Dick. I've seen it."

Dick scoffed. "Please, you're a playboy millionaire who has enough money to blow on parties, bitches, & luxury. The only darkness you know is the dark emptiness of a wine bottle." Dick immediately wish he had taken back what he said. It might have been a bit harsh.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Billionaire," he mumbled quietly.

Dick nodded slowly. "Billionaire," he repeated.

Bruce laid a hand on Dick's shoulder. "You have a billionaire who is willing to put himself on the line to shelter YOU, a teenage criminal. You really can't get it any better than this."

Dick nodded. "I supposed," he said as he stared out the car window. He watched as they began to leave Metropolis & headed towards Gotham. If Bruce Wayne really did somehow know who Dick was & wanted to make sure he wasn't accused of anything wrong in Gotham...then why did Bruce Wayne drive all the way to Metropolis to bring him back to Gotham? He would've been safer in Metropolis...right? Why bring him back to where people would be looking for him? What did Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire, really want with Dick Grayson, Gotham City fugitive?


	6. Chapter 6: Wayne Manor

**Chpt. VI: Wayne Manor**

Dick watched as Alfred opened the bedroom door. Dick's eyes opened wide at the sight of the large elegant bedroom.

Dick's walk from the car to the front steps of Wayne Manor had been mind blowing for him. He hadn't seen a place that could bring him to awe in years. The building was large, like a castle of a king. Bruce Wayne's front lawn was basically a vast field that Bruce could use to defend his home with his own private army. The darkness of the night made the home look eerie, but hauntingly beautiful. The Manor was overwhelmingly magnificent. Dick's doubts about Bruce Wayne had momentarily vanished.

Now, as he stood under the doorway of his new bedroom, his wonder grew even more.

Dick walked inside, admiring the large window to the left. It took up almost the entire wall. A few bookshelves were built into the walls, & a few dressers were set along the walls. Around the room hung frames with paintings of different landscapes, all which seemed to be of Wayne Manor.

Dick went to the bed. It was a large king size bed with silk blankets & thick pillows. Dick pressed his hands down on the mattress. His hands sunk deep in the softness, like a large marshmallow. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen a proper bed.

Dick turned around & was startled by a giant family portrait. Dick's heart rate began to slow once he saw the portrait clearly. It was a father with his wife to his right, sitting in a large chair. On her lap sat a young boy. The father & son both wore dark suits that went well with their dark colored hair. The mother wore a dark blue dress that yet seemed to shimmer & glow in the portrait. Dick wasn't sure if it was the work of the artist or if that's how she truly appeared.

Dick turned back to Alfred, who had been watching him the entire time with a friendly smile & his hands behind his back.

Dick nodded to the painting above. "These are Bruce Wayne's parents?"

Alfred turned to the painting. He slowly nodded. "Yes, they were, sir," he responded in a gentle voice.

Dick looked at Alfred. He looked at his face. There was a small hint of pain that began spreading across Alfred's face. The Waynes were dead, that much was clear. Alfred seemed to be going down a heartbreaking memory lane. Dick looked away once Alfred's eyes began to look glassy.

After a few moments, Alfred spoke up again. "That photo was painted in here," Alfred said with a small crack in his voice. He cleared his throat, speaking again. "This was Master Bruce's bedroom when the portrait was done."

Dick's eyes widened. "Crap, this was Bruce Wayne's bedroom?"

Alfred nodded. "Is that an issue, sir?"

Dick bit his lip. He shook his head. "I just feel like it's a bit of an invasion of Bruce Wayne's painful past, you know?" Dick gestured to the painting. "This was his bedroom when his parents were alive, but they're dead now. I don't know if it's a good idea for a stranger like me to be here."

Alfred gave a warm smile. "Son, they died a very long time ago. Master Bruce has already mourned their deaths." Alfred began to turn around when he added something else. "Besides, it seemed a bit fitting considering your circumstances."

Dick's heart began to pound. Was he referring to his dead parents?

"On the other hand, if you wish to be moved to a different bedroom, I'd be happy to escort you to another," Alfred suggested. "However, none are as spacious & elegant as this one."

Dick glanced around the bedroom. It did feel weird sleeping in Bruce Wayne's childhood bedroom. It felt even stranger with that portrait of his dead parents hung on the wall opposite from the bed, as if they'd be watching that bed for the rest of eternity.

Still, Dick couldn't bring himself to reject Bruce's offer in sleeping in his old bedroom in risk of offending him.

Dick smiled as he turned to Alfred. "I'll be fine for now, I think."

Alfred smiled. "Very well. I'll leave you to settle in, then," he said as he turned to walk out the door.

Dick began scanning the room. He wanted to familiarize himself with it. He put his hands on his hips when he felt something. He traced his fingers down his back pocketwhen he realized he still had the envelope.

Dick silently cursed to himself as he searched a place to keep the money. He considered hiding the money in the pillow. Dick grabbed the pillow to find the actual pillow wasn't kept in a pillow case. It was an entire silk pillow. Dick cursed at the rich man's pillows & tried lifting up the mattress, considering leaving the envelope there. But Dick also thought about Alfred, & the chances of him washing the bed sheets as part of his butler duties. Dick shook his head and dropped the mattress. Dick dropped to the floor to look & see if he could somehow leave the envelope under the bed. There was nowhere to leave it, & he couldn't exactly leave it on the ground under the bed. Alfred might clean under there too. Dick sat up & looked all around the room, looking for the one spot Alfred wouldn't clean or touch.

Dick's eyes slowly rose up to the portrait of Bruce Wayne & his parents. Perhaps there was an indention behind the painting Dick could leave the envelope in…

No. Dick could never do that. It was disrespectful. Dick only imagined if it were a portrait of his own parents & a random street rat stuck things behind THEM.

Dick ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He looked at the bedroom door, which Alfred had left slightly cracked open. Dick rushed to the door, swinging it open. He looked down the hallway in one direction. Then the other. Alfred was a few yards down, almost at the end of the hall.

"Hey, Al," Dick called out.

Alfred stopped and turned back to Dick. Dick gestured for Alfred to come back, then disappeared into his room.

After a few moments, Alfred appeared at the bedroom door. "What can I do for you, Master Dick?"

Dick opened his mouth to speak then closed it. He then spoke again with something different to say than what was on his mind. "I, uh, don't know if I'm all that comfortable with you calling me Master Dick."

Alfred let out a small chuckle. "Master Bruce felt the same when I started using that title for him as well. It'll grow on you."

Dick opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, not wanting to continue with that discussion. "Alright, anyway, I need to ask you a favor."

Alfred nodded. "Anything, sir."

Dick swallowed. He felt his hands becomes a bit clammy. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then spoke. "I need to hide something in here," he started. "My concern is that when my room is being cleaned, it'll raise some questions. But perhaps if this particular something were...overlooked…" Dick trailed off, eyeing Alfred's expression.

Alfred shook his head, laughing softly. "Oh, son, how uncanny your similarities with Master Bruce are. He was just as mischievous as you, hiding silly little things around the home."

Dick nodded, unsure what to say. It wasn't everyday Dick was compared to a billionaire. Dick grabbed the envelope from his pocket and held it out for Alfred to see. "I think there's about-"

"Please," Alfred interrupted, waving a hand. Alfred had closed his eyes. "The less details I know, sir, the better I will be at keeping this secret."

Dick nodded, understanding. Alfred began to walk over to the wall where Dick's bed was against. Alfred began stroking the wall with his hand. Suddenly his hand stopped. He tapped a spot with his finger & stepped aside for Dick. "Place your finger there," Alfred said.

Dick's face grew questioning when he looked at the spot Alfred pointed at. It was a random spot on the wooden wall. The wall was rows of hard wood panels, each one being around 6 inches long by 2 inches horizontally. The panel had a few holes within the wood, given the wood a more natural look. Alfred had pointed at one of the holes.

Dick hesitated, but he took a step closer to the wall. He stuck his finger within the hole. He wasn't sure what to do at this point. Dick traced his finger within the hole, trying to feel out the panel. The hole wasn't too deep, but the panel did appear a bit loose.

Dick pulled the panel toward him with his finger. The panel slid to the right, extending out. Beneath the wooden panel was a metal safe. It had what appeared to be a thumbprint scanner on the safe.

Dick turned back to Alfred. "I can keep my money here?"

Alfred nodded and stepped closer to safe. "Yes, it's just that the imprint on the scanner is defaulted to my thumb." Alfred rose his thumb up onto the panel & scanned it. The safe scanner light shone from its original blue hue to a bright green hue. The safe door swung outward, over the wooden panel.

Dick peeked at the inside of the safe. It was empty. He turned to Alfred. "Why is the default your thumb?"

Alfred let out a sigh. "Because at the time when our security was being installed, Master Bruce had been preoccupied & couldn't personalize the finger scanners himself."

Dick nodded slowly, trying to imagine what Bruce Wayne could have possibly been doing that he didn't even bother to set up his own home security system.

Dick opened his envelope. He removed three bills from the envelope and put them in his pocket. He put the envelope with the rest of the money in the safe. He shut the safe door shut.

Alfred opened a drawer from a nearby nightstand & removed a remote from inside. He pointed it at the safe & pressed a few keys. The scanner began to blink. He set the remote back in the drawer & shut it. "Alright sir, you can now set the safe's scanner to your own finger."

Dick nodded. He raised his hand, about to place his thumb up onto the scanner, but hesitated. Should he use a finger as predictable as his thumb?

Dick extended his ring finger and placed it on the scanner. The scanner hummed for a brief moment, but eventually turned from blue to green again.

Dick grinned in satisfaction. He slid the wooden panel back shut. He turned to Alfred, who had been watching with the same warm, friendly smile. Dick smiled back. "Thank you," he said.

Alfred nodded. He began to turn away, but then stopped as if remembering something. "I forgot to mention, sir, there's a laptop in the nightstand if you begin to feel bored at any time."

Dick raised an eyebrow. He turned and looked down at the nightstand behind him. He opened the drawer to find a large laptop. The black lid seemed to shine against the light from the lamp on the nightstand. Dick let out a chuckle. "Thanks, Al, is there anything else about this room I should know about before I knock out? Any nooks or crannies?"

Alfred held up a finger. "Now that you mention it, there's a secret passageway to a dungeon behind that bookshelf," Alfred said, pointing at a shelf near the bed.

Dick looked back at the shelf. He began to walk towards it when Alfred pulled Dick back. "I was only joking, sir."

Dick let out a laugh. "In this giant mansion, you can never be too sure."

Alfred smiled and nodded. "Right you are, sir. I do believe that's everything. The lavatory is at the end of the hall to the right. I'll be sure to wake you up for breakfast, but if you must rest, I'll give you the extra hours."

Dick let out a sigh. "Thanks, Al," he said, hoping he didn't sound like a broken record.

Alfred threw his hands up. "Right, right, you're already tired. You've had a long day. I'll be out of your hair now." Alfred walked out of the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

Dick laid back on the bed, feeling exhausted. Just laying on the bed brought such a wave of comfort & relief, Dick didn't even bother changing out of the clothes he had worn for 2 whole days. He just wanted to relax & sleep. Something a boy his age shouldn't have to yearn for so much. But every time Dick shut his eyes, he saw a gun pointed at his face. He tried to push the image from his head, but then the sight of the grenade going off terrorized his mind. Dick began shifting in the bed, wondering how he'd get to sleep at night. He fought hard, but then he let the tears rush out. He wasn't going to sleep again.


	7. Chapter 7: Don't Tell Bruce

**Chpt. VII: Don't Tell Bruce**

Dick sat at the dinner table, eating his plate of eggs & bacon while clicking away on his laptop. He didn't think it was rude to use the laptop while eating breakfast since Bruce & Alfred had already had breakfast hours before.

Dick remembered Bruce stopping by the bedroom in the morning. Bruce had said something about Dick staying low & not going out for a while. Bruce may have said why, but Dick didn't remember. He was too dozed off.

Dick glanced up at the clock in the kitchen. It was a quarter past 1:00. Dick had basically slept through all of breakfast.

Dick didn't care. It was the first day in a while that Dick had to rest. Dick didn't want to throw it away.

Dick sighed in relief. He went back to his computer. He typed in "Cheyenne Freemont" in a search engine. He had been thinking of her ever since he got out of Nolan's Underground. He even had a dream about her the night before, despite his late night terrors. He was standing next to Cheyenne on the rooftop of a building in Gotham. It was a rainy night in the dream. It felt a bit scary, but with the feeling of her next to him, Dick felt great.

Now, with a chance to start anew, Dick only hoped he'd get a chance to start again with Cheyenne, wherever she may be.

Dick scrolled through the search results. A few were just social network pages of irrelevant women under the name. Dick took a bite of bacon, continuing through the results. Eventually, he found an online adoption record of a Cheyenne Freemont. According to the record, she had been adopted from the Gotham City Orphanage when she was 10 years old.

"Morning, Master Grayson," Alfred said from behind Dick, startling him.

"Gah!" Dick called out. "Don't do that!"

Alfred let out a laugh. "I apologize, sir," he said. Alfred took a seat at the dinner table. "How did you sleep last night?"

Dick shrugged. "A few nightmares, a few pleasant dreams. Just the average subconscious of an adolescent boy." Dick took a bite of egg from his breakfast plate. "How did you sleep?" Dick asked with a full mouth.

Alfred smiled. "Swell, sir," he responded. Alfred nodded to the laptop. "Doing some online browsing?"

Dick nodded, turning back to the laptop screen. "Just searching up an old friend from the orphanage. I'm considering visiting her soon, but I dunno…" Dick trailed off.

Alfred eyed Dick for a few moments. He raised an eyebrow. "Do you have an address, son?"

Dick began scanning the page. He looked everywhere but only saw the names of the adoptive parents, Xavier & Linda Foster. Dick entered both names in the search engine & found an address in Gotham. Dick turned to Alfred. "3546 Westin Road," Dick told Alfred.

Alfred stood up. "Grab a coat, Master Grayson, I'm driving you there."

Dick held his hands up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he cried. "What? Really? Are you sure? I'm supposed to stay here, Al."

Alfred let out a sigh. "This girl, she's special, right?"

Dick hesitated before answering. He wanted to answer properly. "Cheyenne," he started, "she was my only friend at the orphanage. She was all I had. We both felt alone. My parents had died, but her parents had abandoned her. We were both lost & confused. I remember she had asked me about the circus & my time there. I told her about some of my shows & performances. She made me do a few tricks for her. I had ran up a wall, flipping backwards, & continuing with a triple backwards flip. She was amazed." Dick began staring off into space. He could almost see her standing before him, smiling in awe.

"There was a night that it began to rain heavily. It began to thunder. Turns out Cheyenne was afraid of thunder. She didn't realize it until that night. She came into my bed & asked if I could let her sleep with me till the rain stopped. I let her. We fell asleep that way till the morning. They didn't even want to wake us up because we apparently looked so peaceful." Dick smiled at the memory. "We were lost, but we were lost together."

Alfred smiled a large grin. "Young love, Master Grayson. It's something Bruce never let himself feel. I certainly don't blame him, but it is quite a shame. Now you, on the other hand, get the chance to capture that love."

Dick waved Alfred off. "Al, that was, like, maybe 5 years ago. Who's to say she'll even remember me?"

"Who's to say she won't?" Alfred countered. "Wouldn't it bloody burn if she was wondering about you right now, but you would have never found out because you were sitting there bickering with me?"

Dick let out a laugh. "Alright, alright, fine, let me at least finish my breakfast."

* * *

Dick walked up the steps of the house. Dick looked back behind him, where Alfred was waiting in the black Lincoln in the driveway. Alfred gave Dick a reassuring look. Dick nodded. Alfred had already risked driving Dick into town. Dick had to take advantage of this opportunity to see Cheyenne.

"This is fucking crazy," Dick mumbled as he approached the front door and knocked.

Dick waited patiently. He felt his heart beat heavily in his chest. What if Cheyenne didn't recognize him? Hell, what if he didn't recognize her? Dick took a deep breath to sooth his thoughts.

Suddenly Dick sensed movement to the left. He turned and noticed a shift in a window in the left of the house. Something had moved the curtains.

"Yes?" said a woman hiding behind a cracked open door. She was middle aged with blonde hair & the slightest hint of grey in her roots. She had stress wrinkles all over her face.

Dick cleared his throat. "Hi, um, my name is Dick Grayson. I'm a friend of your daughter, Cheyenne."

The woman squinted her eyes at Dick. "Beg pardon?" she said.

Dick swallowed. "Uh...my name is-"

"I heard you the first time," the woman said harshly, cutting Dick off. "Did you say you're a friend of Cheyenne?"

Dick slowly nodded, confused. The woman looked back inside and opened the door wider, allowing Dick to walk in.

The woman lead Dick to the living room. As Dick entered, a tall bald older man stood at the window. He wore a scowl & had stress wrinkles of his own. His eyes traced Dick's movement as he approached the couch.

Dick took a seat on the couch across from the man. The woman sat in a recliner to the right of the couch while the man stood up and stared at Dick with his arms crossed.

Dick swallowed. "Xavier & Linda Foster, right?" he asked, clarifying that he had found the right home.

The woman nodded. "Yes, I'm Linda, & this is my husband, Xavier," she said, gesturing to the grump that she was married to.

Dick attempted to smile at him, but Xavier's scowl quickly turned to a snarl. Dick looked away. He noticed a fireplace behind Xavier. There was photos on the mantle. Some with Xavier & Linda together. Some with just Linda. Some with Xavier & some other men. None with a girl. None with Cheyenne.

"You have a lovely home," Dick said, turning to Linda.

Linda managed a smile that had "fake" written all over it. It quickly faded. "So, um, Dick, you said you knew Cheyenne?"

Dick nodded. "Yes, when we were younger."

Linda nodded. "Ah, okay, that explains it," she responded. She turned to her husband. "Honey, can you get me a bottle of my juice? It's by the phone."

Xavier nodded, still frowning, & walked past Dick to the kitchen He continued to glare at him till he was completely gone from sight.

Linda cleared her throat. "Dick, how exactly did you meet Cheyenne?"

Dick raised an eyebrow. "We were at the orphanage together when we were younger."

Linda nodded. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"The day she was adopted," he answered. "She left with her new family, & I remember saying goodbye to her. We were both young still. I assume it was your family she had left with that day."

Linda nodded. "It was, yes." Linda tapped her fingers against her thighs impatiently. Finally, Xavier came back with a bottle. He handed it to Linda, who quickly opened it. As she twisted the cap, her hands shook heavily. She was clearly as nervous as Dick felt.

She took a sip & sighed. "Dick, it was hard for her to grow up here," she admitted. "She was always a bit awkward, & we couldn't put together what it was. She made kids at her school nervous. After a few years, we had to pull her out & home school her. Even then, it didn't turn out the best for her. She was still not connecting with us."

Dick let every word soak in. Every detail of her life was a piece of the puzzle that he wanted to finally fit together. After so long of running, he finally was at a place where he could try to pick up where he left off with her. This family was his only hope of finding her again.

Dick felt a smile slowly wash over his face. "At the orphanage, we always connected. We understood each other. We were young, but we really were best friends. She was never nervous with me. A little bit quirky, sure, but so was I." Dick let out a sigh. "She was great."

"No, she wasn't," Xavier suddenly said. Dick turned to him, eyes wide open. "She was troubled and dangerous."

Dick opened his mouth to speak, but then LInda spoke up. "One night, Xavier & I went out for dinner, leaving Cheyenne alone here. She was 13, I didn't think anything bad would happen."

"When we got home, our power was out," Xavier explained. "The power line had somehow been knocked down. We went to check up on Cheyenne. We walked into her room, & all of her furniture had been...elevated. From nothing. Just floating in thin air. Linda was terrified, she ran downstairs screaming. I tried to make my way to Cheyenne slowly, & a lamp flew to my head and knocked me out."

"It was like a poltergeist," Linda said. "Everything was moving on its own. I was in the kitchen calling 911 when she came down & started screaming & crying. Glasses started breaking & a knife almost flew into me!" Linda brought a shaky hand up to her ear, as if recalling the spot where the knife almost grazed her. "Cheyenne ran that night. Where, we don't know. And quite frankly, I don't give a damn where she is."

"That girl is a monster," Xavier said. "She's pure evil. That night was a sign of true darkness in the world. And the fact that you, a stranger, comes into OUR home & asks us about that THING, it makes me uneasy."

Dick slowly rose his hands up in defense. "I apologize for intruding like this," he started. "You're right. I barged in and began questioning you two about a delicate subject. I shouldn't have come."

As Dick finished his sentence, there was a knock at the door. Dick looked back at the door, then to Linda, who was looking at Xavier. He shook his head and began walking to the door. "You're right, you shouldn't have."

Dick slowly stood up and watched Xavier from his spot. Xavier opened the door to a man in a black jacket & jeans. He looked around 40 something. His shaven head made him look a bit threatening. He stepped inside. "You called about an intruder?" he asked.

"Yes, this boy came in and began to harass my wife & I about my daughter & refuses to leave," Xavier whined, gesturing to Dick.

Dick's hand clenched into a fist. "Wow," he murmured.

The man walked closer to Dick, eyeing him. "Come here, kid," he commanded.

Dick walked slowly around the couch to the man. "Sir, I knocked on their door. These people are lying, I came in only looking for a friend. I-"

"What did you say his name was again?" the man asked Xavier, interrupting Dick.

"Dick something," Xavier answered. "Something with a G."

"Dick Grayson?" the man suggested. Xavier nodded. The man turned back to Dick & removed a pair of handcuffs from behind him. "Dick Grayson, you are under arrest."

"What?" Dick cried. He fought against the man's grip on his wrists, but the man held them tight.

The man turned to Xavier with a grin while snapping the handcuffs on Dick's wrists. "Mr. Foster, you just helped put a Gotham City fugitive into custody."

Xavier nodded slowly with a smug look, feeling impressed.

"You're a fucking asshole," Dick spat at Xavier. "You disown your only daughter & call a cop on me for asking too many questions!"

"She is NOT my daughter!" Xavier yelled back. "Cheyenne was a monster. I hope she's in Hell where she belongs."

Dick began to be pulled away by the cop. Dick fought back, but the cop's grip was stronger. "I'll see YOU in Hell, Foster," Dick hissed before being pulled out of the doorway.

Xavier slammed the door as the cop walked Dick down the steps of the house. Dick looked up & saw Alfred standing next to the Lincoln in fear.

As the cop walked Dick passed the Lincoln toward his own car, Dick turned to Alfred. "Don't tell Bruce."


	8. Chapter 8: Interrogation

**Chpt. VIII: Interrogation**

Dick sat at the table in the dark interrogation room, staring at the guard by the door. He stared right back at Dick with a stern face, as if attempting to intimidate him. It was working.

Dick grinded his teeth, upset he had got himself in the situation in the first place. He didn't know how long he would be waiting, but he certainly hoped it wasn't long enough for Bruce to find out. It felt like Dick had waited for a few hours. It was like he was in a prison. Dick was thankful they hadn't kept the handcuffs on him in the room.

Suddenly the door swung opened, and a large burly man walked in, followed by another man in average height. The larger man wore a fedora and a dark shirt with overalls. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing dark tattoos on his hairy, muscular arms. The man behind him wore a black coat over a bright shirt and a blue tie. He had a small mustache and wore wire framed glasses. He carried a few manila colored folders in his hand.

The larger man spoke first. "Richard John Grayson, am I right?" he asked in a loud and deep voice. Dick simply nodded. "I'm Detective Harvey Bullock." He pointed to the smaller man behind him with his thumb. "This guy here is Jim Gordon. We're going to ask you a few questions. Cooperate, and this will go by fast and smooth, and I can go home. Alright?"

Dick nodded slowly, keeping in mind that the man hadn't said anything about Dick returning home.

Detective Bullock nodded with a slight grin and took a seat across from Dick at the table. He leaned forward on the table, close to Dick. Dick could see the gray stubble around the man's chin. His body reeked of a sickening odor, like he had bathed in dead bodies and forgot to wash up.

Detective Bullock cleared his throat. "Why'd you blow it up, kid?"

Dick's eyes rose open. He was afraid to speak out of turn, but spoke anyway. "Wait, what?"

Bullock sat back. "Gotham City Underground. The subways. Why'd you blow it up?"

The guard standing by the door cleared his throat. "Excuse me sir, but, um, I don't think that's why he's in here."

Bullock slowly turned back to the guard, an irritated look on his face. "What?"

The guard swallowed. "Uh, the cop who brought him in, he was some sort of neighborhood watch. He said this kid broke into a family home or something."

Bullock slammed his hand on the table, causing everyone in the room to flinch. "'Broke into a family home OR SOMETHING?!'" He repeated. "What the hell is wrong with you, did you bring me the wrong kid, or are YOU in the wrong room?!"

Finally, Jim Gordon spoke. His voice was a bit softer, but just as deep. "Harvey, the man's right, they brought him in for a breaking and entering. This is the same kid who the suspects are saying blew the subways up, though."

Bullock slowly turned back to Dick. His furious glare suddenly turned menacing. "Oh my God, this kid blew an abandoned subway station up, and broke into a home within a week, and he's shaking like a kid about to be spanked!" Bullock stood up and reached over the table, grabbing Dick's shirt collar and brought him close to Bullock's face. The odor was so strong Dick could taste it. "Oh, boy, I oughta spank the shit out of you; maybe it'll teach you not to fuck with my city, huh?"

Dick fought hard not to respond with a smart ass remark, yet the words he thought managed to escape his mouth. "This isn't your city. You're gonna wish you handcuffed me to the chair, because I'm about to teach you whose city this really is."

"Oh, that's it!" Bullock snarled before reaching back with his right hand, about to throw a punch with the brick he had for a fist. Suddenly Bullock was pulled back by Gordon.

Gordon pushed Bullock back with his hand on his chest. "Dammit, Harvey, go punch a wall or something, will ya?"

Bullock slapped Gordon's hand off his chest and snarled at him before leaving the interrogation room. The guard looked relieved that Bullock had left. Jim looked back at the guard and nodded for him to leave as well. The guard nodded and walked out the room silently.

Gordon let out a sigh of relief. He turned to Dick and sat down at the chair across from him at the table. "Sorry about him, son. Detective Bullock has always been the tough guy. Sometimes he just doesn't know when to quit the act."

Dick nodded slowly. This cop seemed genuinely nicer. Maybe Dick could find a way around this guy to get himself out quicker.

Gordon laid out the folders on the table. "So, Dick. Can I call you Dick?" he asked. Dick nodded. "Alright, Dick, we're really more interested in this bombing, but before we move onto that, we'll start on this break in since it's a smaller charge."

Dick sighed. "Alright," he began slowly. He wanted to chose his words carefully and make sure not to get the wrong people in trouble. "I went over to the Foster's home to visit a friend. She wasn't there, however. Apparently she had moved out or something. Her parents freaked out because they were emotionally distraught by their daughter's absence that me coming over and asking about her made them feel threatened, resulting in the police being involved. They said I broke in to get me out of their house. I knocked on their door and Mrs. Foster let me in. I did nothing illegal."

Jim Gordon nodded, listening to every word Dick said. "You're right, they were an emotionally unstable family." Gordon opened a folder and flipped through a few papers. He pulled one out and began reading it. "Cheyenne Freemont, that was the girl. Did the Fosters tell you what happened to her?"

Dick shrugged, not wanting to give too much away. "I assume she moved out."

Gordon scoffed. "Well, it's a hell of a story. This wackjob of a woman calls us up late at night. Maybe around 11:00 PM or something. She says for us to come and help us get a monster. We asked what the monster was. She said her daughter. So we go over within 10 minutes. The entire neighborhood's power is knocked out. Power lines were fallen over, some into a few neighbor's houses. Half of GCPD is attending to the damaged homes and family. I was with a few officers, Bullock had a night off. We talked to the Fosters. They said that the power was out at their house, and their daughter was making things fly, or float, or something. She made their house shake, apparently. But when we got there, she was gone.

"We went and talked to the neighbors about the power. Now, this is where it gets normal again. The entire neighborhood all claimed to have felt two tremors. One that knocked their power down, and another a few minutes later. Something of an aftershock, I guess. We're thinking that these Foster characters got home from God knows what they were doing, found their home's power out, and the interior damaged. Cheyenne, being a minor home alone in a small earthquake, ran away, frightened. I guess the Fosters conjured up this fairy tale to cope with the lose of their daughter and home."

Dick sat there, taking in the story word for word. It sounded strange, but it seemed more logical than the poltergeist story he had heard.

Jim gave Dick a small, but friendly smile. "You're fine, Dick. You did nothing wrong. You didn't know about this. It wasn't that big of a deal, even for the city. The tremors reached out for maybe a mile. On top of that, we had to bring in the Fosters for a psychiatric evaluation. The two of them, in fact, suffer from a few psychological disorders."

Dick's eyes opened wide out of surprise. "Really?" he asked. "Wow. The two of them looked pretty normal. Rude, but normal."

Jim Gordon let out a small chuckle and crossed his arms. "Let me tell you something about normal, son," he began, leaning forward on the table. Dick leaned forward as well, curious. "Gotham City is not a city of normal people. It's not a city of normal things. No, in fact, nothing in this city is normal. Everything and everyone here is crazy. Whether it's in our prison, or Arkham Asylum, or even in your local high school. Everyone is crazy in their own way. That's what makes this city dangerous. That's what makes this city a living hell."

Dick nodded, agreeing with every word. _"Hell is home,"_ Dick recalled Nolan chanting.

Gordon flipped back a page in the folder. "So Cheyenne ran away. According to this, she was adopted, huh?"

Dick nodded. "That's how I knew her."

Gordon nodded, pointing to a spot on the page. "Gotham City Orphanage, right." He continued reading, then looked back up at Dick. "Tell me about your time there."

Dick felt his heart beat faster. This is where his life had begun to fall apart. "Uh, well, my parents died when I was 8. I was sent to the orphanage, having no relatives or close family to live with. The Haly Circus was a bad place to stay with since they were having contract issues. I was at the orphanage for a year or two. I met Cheyenne, and we became friends. She left when I was 12."

Gordon nodded. "Haly Circus," he said softly. "I remember seeing you preform. The Flying Graysons, right?"

Dick nodded. "Yeah, that was me. Pretty much everyone remembers seeing me jump through the air as a boy."

"You know I had a nickname for you?" Gordon said, smiling. "I would bring my nephew to your shows and I would tell him, 'Look, it's the Boy Wonder!'"

Dick grinned. "Wow, that's actually pretty terrible," he joked.

Gordon waved him off. "I know, but my nephew loved it."

Dick nodded, still smiling. Gordon continued speaking. "The Haly Circus had a few rough paths after the tragedy. There was the fire, then the murder of Jack Haly, and soon after that, the circus went into foreclosure. Most of this was because of a mob boss named Anthony Zucco. He had some beef with Jack Haly, apparently he had borrowed money from Zucco to pay for the circus. Haly came up short when it came to paying Zucco back, so he burnt the circus down to prove a point. Once they were renovated it, Haly was in more debt. He couldn't pay neither the city OR Zucco. Zucco killed Haly. Then, someone unexpected murdered Zucco.

"We were all shocked at the GCPD. We couldn't catch this guy for a few years now, we didn't know why. But a few years ago, somebody finally did. There's a few rumors around our police department that the circus has a guardian angel. We thought that at this point you'd like to know about what has been happening. I went down to the orphanage to bring the news to you, but they said you had been adopted and wouldn't release any records to me. We came back with a warrant, but Mother Louise stopped me. She said you had gone through too much and it was best you didn't know."

With each word, Dick's heart felt heavier and heavier. The memory of the fire, his time after Cheyenne had left the orphanage, and his time on his own. Jim Gordon spoke again. "Now, you've grown from a talented young boy to a smart young man. I'm sure everything you've been through has built you into a stronger person. Especially with all that's happened in that underground city we found."

Dick's heavy heart was beating irregular already. This statement made it freeze entirely. "What?" Dick simply said, his voice cracking.

Gordon waved a hand. "Son, we know about that whole deal. The weapons trade, the fight club, the gambling, all of it. We investigated the blast site and managed to hunt down a few people who had lived down there for a while." Gordon opened another folder and removed a document and began reading. "I have here a listing of the suspects we brought in for questioning: Alex Henderson, Paul Schmidt, William Quinn, Ben Parson, Jeffrey Kingston, Rodrick Farmer, and Nick Turner."

Dick's hand clenched into a fist involuntarily. "Rodrick Farmer?" he asked.

Jim Gordon nodded. "Yes, each of these suspects, all coincidentally teenage boys, stated that you were involved with this underground fight club and were the one responsible for the subway explosion."

Dick scoffed. "Alright, I'll admit, I took part in the fighting, but I didn't blow anything up." Dick ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "You should question these boys about a guy named Nolan Drake."

Jim Gordon pulled out a pen from his coat and began jotting notes down on the documents. "Nolan Drake?" he repeated. "Who is this?"

Dick let out a sigh. "Nolan was what the kids considered the mayor, or president, but more like a dictator. He set up the rules around the place. He came off friendly to some, but when you crossed him, he was sick and insane."

Jim Gordon continued writing. He glanced up, but looked back down, finishing his statement. "Sounds like you two have history."

Dick nodded. "When I first met him, he had two big goon looking brutes standing on each side. They looked clueless. Nolan smiled at me. It seemed genuine, yet it seemed like he was something else altogether. Something darker, like a cunning wolf. At first, it looks majestic, but when fucked with, it can pounce on you like the predator it is."

Gordon nodded. "Alright, we'll be sure to look into this guy." He organized the folders and put them in one pile. He picked them up and stood from the chair. He walked to the door. "I'll be back," he said.

"Wait!" Dick called. "Bring Rodrick in here, please."

Gordon looked back at Dick. He scratched the back of his neck, unsure. "I'll try," he said before stepping out.

Dick sat back as he waited. He thought about everything that had been said throughout the night. The incident with the Fosters was cleared up. Cheyenne wasn't being investigated, so she would be safe, wherever she is. Dick was in the clear for what he had done the night he ran from the orphanage. He was also in the clear for the explosion. Or at least he thought.

Just as Dick was getting comfortable, the door opened. Walking in was Rodrick, in tattered clothes and a swollen face. He was handcuffed with his arms out in front. He looked up as he entered the room and stopped when he saw Dick. He began to turn around, but the door was slam shut by a nearby officer, probably the one who let him in.

Rodrick turned back to Dick. He began to laugh nervously. "Hey, dude," he began. "You look good."

Dick grinned. "Yeah. I was adopted by a billionaire last night," he remarked.

Rodrick nodded slowly. "The rich get richer," he mumbled softly.

Dick let out a chuckle. "Rodrick, I fucking miss you, man. Come here, let me hug you."

"Oh, nah, man, I'm good," Rodrick said, shaking his head.

Dick nodded. He stood up. "Fine, I'll come to you."

Rodrick began to move away from Dick. Dick continued to follow Rodrick, both circling the table. "No, I'm good, man. I'll stay across from you."

Dick eventually stopped, feeling frustrated. He leaped up onto the table, sliding across, and swung his leg up, kicking Rodrick in the face. Rodrick fell over and screamed in pain. Dick began kicking Rodrick in his gut, over and over, each kick pressing deeper into his stomach.

A cop rushed in after a few moments. Dick stopped and held his hands up at the sound of the door opening. "Okay," he called. "I'm good. I'm done."

The cop nodded and walked out the door. Dick looked at Rodrick, who was quivering on the floor. "You fucking psycho!"

Dick let out a loud laugh. "Hah! Can you blame me? I almost got blown up a couple of days ago!" Dick began circling Rodrick's body. "I can't BELIEVE you would go to so much trouble to rob me! I mean, really? A fucking grenade, man?"

"What the fuck makes you think that was me?" Rodrick cried.

"You fucking idiot, it's not a coincidence that a grenade was tossed at me, knocking me out, giving you a chance to take the cash! Of course it was you!" Dick let out a frustrated groan, then kicked Rodrick again in the gut.

"Fuck!" Rodrick whined. "Yes, okay, I tossed it at you! I never meant to kill you, though! It was all just for the money! I was trying to keep track of how much money you won because I wanted to escape from Old Gotham too! I wanted the money to leave town with my mom and sister!"

Dick looked down at Rodrick. The words echoed in his mind for a few moments. "What?"

"Yeah, man. Nolan had half of the boys down there acting as his bitches because he had managed to find a way to sort of blackmail us into doing his bidding, I guess. He had people kidnap someone's girlfriend. He rigged another kid's dad's car to blow whenever Nolan wanted. He told me he had three men watching my mom and sister at home. The moment I disobeyed Nolan, he'd have his men kill my family. I wanted your money escape with my mom and sister out of town."

Dick was speechless. He leaned back against the table behind him. He began to feel his heart sink. He hadn't realized the predicament some of the boys down in Old Gotham were in. Rodrick had a family he was looking out for. The money really would've helped them. Suddenly Dick started to feel selfish, having only been looking out for his own skin.

Then again, Rodrick lied to Dick before. What was stopping him from coming up with another bullshit story?

"What's your sister's name?" Dick asked.

Rodrick looked up at Dick, still on the ground. "Tracy," he mumbled. "Why do you care?"

Dick shrugged. "Maybe these guys can put your family in some sort of witness protection."

Rodrick scoffed. "Nolan probably already had them shot," he spat. "He was pissed at me before we were raided."

Dick looked down at Rodrick. "What do you mean?"

Rodrick took a moment to breathe. He struggled to stand, but managed to lean himself against the table. He limped over to the chair and slouched down onto it. "When I tried to make the run for it, Nolan sent his boys after me. He brought me back to his Slaughterhouse."

Dick shuddered at the thought. He was familiar with Nolan's Slaughterhouse. Nolan had managed to find one large storage unit, and used it as his own personal torture chamber. He made it into his Slaughterhouse.

"He tied me up to a chair and shined that giant lamp at me. He asked me where you had run off to. I told him I had no clue. He went behind the curtain where he hid his weapons and grabbed a baseball bat. He swung that shit at my face. He asked again. I couldn't answer. He swung again. He kept doing that for a while, and eventually was bored and pissed. He told me he was going to have his men wait till my mom and Tracy were asleep in their bedrooms, then have them shoot them in their sleep.

"I freaked and said that if he let me out, I'd go topside to search for you. He was skeptical since I had blown up a subway and tried to run. He goes and grabs a dirty rag from the ground and a gallon of gasoline. He starts waterboarding me. I freak out, spazzing everywhere. The suddenly I hear a bunch of screaming. Nolan and a few of his goons had run away, and I was left tied up. The cops had raised the whole place, capturing a few kids. They cut me loose, but brought me into custody."

Dick nodded, taking in the story. Dick had no doubt this was all true. Something as cruel as what he had described was something Nolan was very much capable of. In fact, Dick himself had witnessed the cruelty Nolan had put Dick and others through.

Dick turned to Rodrick. "Have you told the cops anything about where Nolan might be?"

Rodrick shook his head. "Dude, I have no fucking clue where the son of a bitch went. And even if I did, the cops wouldn't stand a chance at catching the fucker, let alone finding him."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

Rodrick looked up at Dick. "The guy is psychotic. He's obsessed with power. Have no idea why, but the guy wants to rule people! Like Napoleon, or Hitler or something. He thought it was enough to have us all succumb to his control underground, but he grew power hungry. He's been planning a citywide takeover. I don't know the full details, but he has some sort of thing going on. And whenever that plan fails, he has a contingency plan! And with the sort of connections Nolan has with the criminal underworld, there's no doubt he might make it work." Rodrick gestured to the door behind him. "Those cops out there don't stand a chance to the mind of an insane boy."

Dick nodded. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the door opened behind Rodrick. A cop stuck his head through the door. "Grayson, you're free to leave."

Dick looked up. "Just like that?" he asked.

The cop nodded. "Yeah, Bruce Wayne is demanding that we let you go. Detective Gordon says we got everything we need from you now, so you're free to go."

Rodrick smirked. "Son of a bitch, you weren't kidding about the billionaire."

Dick nodded, walking out towards the door. He turned back to Rodrick, who was turned in his seat. "Be careful, dude," he warned him. "And whether or not anything you said was true, seriously stay away from Nolan. We both know the guy really is crazy."

Rodrick nodded, turning back in his seat. Dick walked down the hallway. He made his way to Detective Gordon. "So Bruce is here?"

Gordon nodded. "Yeah, he's pissed. We told him your charges were dropped, but we wanted to bring you in for questioning. That didn't help, though, he's still mad."

Dick nodded. "Have your guys look out for Nolan Drake," Dick said. "And Rodrick Farmer. He might have a family. A mom and a sister, Tracy. There might be a hit on them, so if they really exist, keep an eye out."

Gordon nodded. "Will do, son."

Dick nodded, and turned away. He walked down the hall and entered the police station lobby. Standing in the middle, with his buff arms crossed over his large chest, was Bruce Wayne. "Dick!" he called.

Dick waved shyly. "Hey," he said softly.

Bruce ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Dammit, Dick," was all he said before turning and walking towards the exit.

Dick watched, confused, then rushed after him. He followed him outside, down the street towards his car. Alfred stood at the driver end of the car. "Evening, Master Dick," Alfred called. "I apologize for-"

"Al, not now, dude," Dick shot back.

Bruce suddenly spun in his tracks and slapped Dick at the top of his head.

"Ow!" Dick cried. Bruce surprisingly slapped hard. "What the fuck, man?"

Bruce pointed an accusing finger at Dick. "I told you to stay at the house today! I didn't want you being seen, and you managed to get yourself arrested!"

"Yeah, okay, that was stupid, but Detective Gordon and I talked and the charges are dropped about the break in and the explosion!"

"Wait, a break in?" Bruce roared. "How the hell did you manage to break into a house?"

"I didn't! That's why the charges were dropped!"

Bruce let out a deep breath, then continued to lecture Dick on disobedience for leaving the home. Dick lost focus. He began trying to identify a sound he heard to his right. He turned and noticed an alleyway. Dick slowly walked over, still facing Bruce to create the impression he was paying attention. He then glanced into the alley from the corner of his eye. He saw two bodies, one over another.

Dick turned instinctively to get a good look. A guy was beating up another, possibly mugging him. Dick ran down the alley, ignoring Bruce's calls. As Dick ran closer, he had a better look at the fight. A tall man in a leather jacket was holding a smaller man in a headlock and repeatedly kneed him in his stomach over and over.

When Dick got close enough, Dick yelled "hey!" and ran towards the right, running up the wall for a brief second. As the man turned around, Dick kicked off the wall, sending his leg to swing around, kicking the man in the face. The man doubled over, falling back against a dumpster. He laid there, crumpled on the ground.

Dick stood up, panting. Bruce had begun running down the alley. Dick turned around, looking down at the fallen man who was being attacked. He wore a red hoodie. His hood was over his head. He laid still for a few moments, then his finger twitched. He began to groan.

Dick kneeled down next to the body. Dick shook the shoulder softly. "Hey, you okay?" Dick whispered.

The man's head nodded, face still planted into the ground. He extended his arm out. Dick took his arm and wrapped it around his neck, helping the man up.

"I can stand," mumbled the man. He struggled, but managed to get on his two feet. He removed his hood, revealing his brown hair and brown eyes. He had a clean shaven jaw, making him look young. In fact, he came off to look younger than Dick thought he was. He was only a boy, like Dick.

"Thanks," the boy said. "Really, thanks so much. That bastard was trying to get his hands on my wallet, but I put up a fight."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "That was you putting up a fight?" he asked rhetorically. "I'd hate to see you actually lose, then."

The boy let out a sarcastic laugh. He stuck his hand out. "Roy Harper."

Dick looked down at his hand. He shook it. "Dick Grayson."

Roy smiled, shaking firmly back. He looked over Dick's shoulder, noticing a very stern Bruce Wayne standing behind him. Roy's smile faded, and he removed his hand. "I think your dad is staring," he whispered to Dick.

Dick turned around to face Bruce. He gestured behind him with his thumb. "I just saved this guy," he said. "Have I made up for the arrest?"

Bruce shook his head. "Dick, do you honestly think beating up a guy justifies your reckless behavior?"

Dick shook his head, grinning. "No, but I just saved him from being mugged. I feel better about myself, and that's good enough for me." He turned back to Roy. "Alright dude, I have to go attend to my house arrest duties. You stay safe, and have a good night!"

Roy slowly waved at Dick and Bruce as the two walked back down the alley to the car. Bruce smacked Dick once again in the back of the head before getting in the car.


	9. Chapter 9: Breakfast

**Chpt. IX: Breakfast**

Dick stood at the kitchen counter waiting for the coffee machine to drip the coffee into the glass container. He looked at a nearby clock hanging above a window. It was almost 11:00 AM.

Dick sighed heavily. He was surprised he hadn't slept in longer. Bruce had kept him up the night before. He had pestered Dick the night before with questions about the arrest. He had asked what Detective Gordon had asked Dick. Dick told Bruce everything, but Bruce kept worrying. He was paranoid till Gordon had called Bruce himself. The two talked, & Bruce eventually backed off of Dick. Dick didn't go to bed till after midnight, though. He couldn't managed to get himself to sleep. He kept having nightmares.

Dick shook his head. He didn't want to think about it. He just focused on the coffee dripping into the glass container.

After a few moments, the glass container filled up almost halfway. Dick shut the coffee machine off and poured it into a white mug. Just as Dick was about to take a sip, there was a knock at the front door.

Dick sighed and took a quick sip of the coffee, then walked to the door.

As Dick opened the door, he immediately wished he had looked through the peephole in the door. It could have been a businessman Bruce was expecting. Maybe it was a Playboy Bunny coming to visit Bruce. Maybe it was a random stranger coming to rob Bruce. But when Dick opened the front door, he found the teenage boy Dick saved from the alley the night before.

The boy wore the same red hoodie he wore the night before. He had a few scars & bruises around his face, most likely from the fight he endured, possibly from elsewhere. He was a few inches taller than Dick, & surprisingly looked a bit more muscular. Dick wondered how the he couldn't have managed to fight the attacker off on his own.

The boy smiled. "Hey," he simply said.

Dick nodded. "Dude, how the fuck did you know where I live?"

The boy's smile faded. He raised an eyebrow. "Uh, well, I remember seeing you leave with Bruce Wayne. It's not that hard to find a millionaire's mansion."

"Billionaire," Dick corrected. "Dude, aren't there, like, guards at the front gate or something?"

The boy looked back behind him and shook his head. "No, just a big metal gate with a big W on it. There was a intercom on a keypad by the gate, but I didn't think I could use that without an appointment or something."

"So you sneak onto my property?"

"I'm not about to call to see if Bruce Wayne has a free lunch break to take the time to let me thank his son for saving my ass."

Dick opened his mouth, ready to respond quickly, but that last part caught him off guard. "I'm not his son," Dick said softly.

The boy stared at Dick for a moment, dumbfounded. He scratched his head, like an ape would when confused. Then he snapped his fingers at Dick. "Right, you said your name was Mason."

Dick pursed his lips. "Grayson," he corrected. "Dick Grayson."

The boy nodded, holding his hand out. "Sorry, my bad. I'm Roy Harper, in case you didn't catch that last night either."

Dick shook his hand. Just as he pulled his hand away, Dick heard footsteps approaching from behind. He spun around quickly, almost startled. He only found Alfred walking over slowly.

"Master Grayson," Alfred started. "Good morning."

"Morning, Al," Dick said as Alfred approached him at the doorway.

"You know, sir, it's my duty to tend to welcoming guests," Alfred said softly.

Dick looked up at Alfred, slightly confused. Then it registered through his head. "Oh. You answer the door around here. Oops."

Alfred nodded. "All in a matter of time, sir." He turned to Roy. "Would you like to come in, sir? I can get breakfast started up."

Roy held a hand up and shook his head. "No, thank you though."

"Very well," Alfred said, nodded one last time before walking off into the kitchen.

Dick watched Alfred walk away, then turned to Roy. "So what are you doing here, man?"

Roy scratched the back of his head. "Well, uh, like I said. I wanted to thank you for saving my ass last night. I thought maybe I could, like, buy you breakfast."

Dick stared at Roy for a moment. "Buy me breakfast?"

Roy nodded. "Breakfast."

Dick's eye began tracing Roy, moving up & down his body. He looked back up at him. "I'm flattered, but I don't roll like that."

Roy raised an eyebrow in confusion. Then it seemed to click in his head. "Bro, it's not a date. For fuck's sake, I'm only taking you to Stingaree's."

Dick made a face in disgust. "The pirate place?"

Roy nodded. "Yeah. They have breakfast there, right?"

Dick let out a loud sigh. He took one sip from his coffee & turned around. He nodded for Roy to step inside. "You're taking me to Starbucks," he simply said before walking over to the kitchen to get rid of the coffee.

Before he reached the kitchen, Dick heard more footsteps approach him from behind. "Wait, what's going on?" Bruce asked, walking over in a smooth grey suit, looking good & ready for the day.

"Ray & I are getting breakfast."

"Roy."

"Roy & I are getting breakfast."

Bruce looked from Dick to Roy & back to Dick. "I guess it's alright," he said. "Do you have a car to take him?" Bruce asked Roy.

Roy shook his head. "I came in a motorcycle," he admitted.

Bruce nodded. He turned to Dick. "I have a few other bikes in my garage, come on."

Roy waited by the door as Dick followed Bruce from the living room to a corridor that led to a large garage with bright lighting, filled with expensive sports cars, luxury cars & a few off-road vehicles. Towards the back were 6 motorcycles, some dirt bikes, some sport bikes, & some cruisers.

"Dick," Bruce softly said from across the room. Dick turned back, realizing Bruce hadn't walked one step from the door. Dick was already at the end of the garage.

Dick nodded at Bruce. "What's up, man?"

Bruce walked slowly over to Dick with his hands slid into his pockets. He sighed. "I don't know if you should go out today."

Dick let out a groan. "Dude, the cops aren't going to arrest me again. I'm gonna be fine."

"Gordon told me about your involvement with Nolan Drake," Bruce admitted. "He told me that the underground fight club has some ties to a few weapons trading with some city gangs, & I don't want you to go out & have someone come after you."

Dick was silent for a moment. He thought back to how much had been revealed to Gordon the night before & whether or not Rodrick & the others revealed more to him. He then considered how much of THAT was revealed to Bruce. "Is that all Gordon told you?"

Bruce shrugged. "That's what I understood from his phone call, yeah."

Dick nodded. "Well, I'll be fine. I don't know what else to tell you." Dick turned back to the bikes. After a second, he turned back around. "Why is Gordon telling you any of that? Isn't that, like, classified stuff?"

Bruce shook his head. "I'm your legal guardian. I have the right to know what's going on with you & the law if your life is at stake."

Dick eyed Bruce. "That's another thing, Bruce. You're apparently my legal guardian now, but where did you get that finalized? Did you go to the orphanage? Because I wasn't there. I haven't been there for a while, & anybody there would've told you the same. So who the hell let you adopt a kid who didn't even live there?"

Bruce bit his lip. He looked down at his feet. Dick felt that Bruce was holding something back. "Pick a bike, Dick," Bruce simply said.

Dick shook his head. Clearly he didn't have an answer for Dick.

Dick turned back to the bikes, with a slight smug grin on his face. A black & green sports bike called Dick's attention.

Dick slowly made his way over & swung a leg over the bike. He rested on top of the seat & gripped the handlebar of the bike. He leaned close to the front of the bike, trying to imagine riding the bike.

"This is a sexy motherfucker," Dick mumbled.

Bruce nodded. "I named her Alexa when I bought it," he said. "Actually, I was your age when I got it."

Dick shot a stare back at Bruce. "Just give me the keys, man."

* * *

Dick grasped the warm plastic cup in his hands. He took a sip from the coffee & thought about the taste. It was hot, so it burnt his tongue a bit. But nothing was as bad as having to drink water from a boiler room in an abandoned subway.

"What about her?" Roy said in a low voice, nodding to his left.

Dick sighed. When Bruce gave him the bike, Roy & Dick had immediately rode out into the city without another word. Once they had arrived to the coffee shop, Roy offered to buy Dick his coffee, as a thank you for the night before. While they drank, Roy repeatedly asked Dick for his approval on countless women & their appearances. Dick was beginning to grow tired of the game.

"Yeah, man," Dick mumbled. "I guess she's hot."

Roy nodded with a slight smirk. He subtly watched as the girl had walked from the counter across to a table where she met up with a few friends. Dick glanced back, noticing the three other girls sitting with the girl Roy checked out. Of the four that sat at the table, one redhead with blue eyes caught Dick's attention. She was pretty, Dick couldn't deny that.

Dick turned back to his coffee & took another sip, hunched over like a tired old man after a long day's work. He savored the bitter burning sensation on his taste buds.

Roy opened his mouth to speak when Dick beat him to the punch. "Alright, dude," Dick started. "This has been bothering me all day. I have to ask, though. Why are you really here?"

Roy raised an eyebrow. Dick realized how bushy they were. "What?" he asked. "You said you wanted Starbucks. I offered-"

"No, no, not that. Why are you taking me out at all? You don't know me. I happened to save you from getting your ass kicked, & you want to repay me with an awkward cup of coffee while you googly eye some chicks that quite frankly look a bit too young for you? There's something else you want. Is it money? Are you looking for money? You knew I was with Wayne, so you wanted his money. Is that it?"

Roy swallowed slowly and looked down at his lap embarrassed. He cleared his throat. "I'm not from here. I'm from Star City. I only came into town to visit my brother. I might be here awhile, & I guess I'd like to have a friend while I'm around, you know? To have at least one familiar face that isn't my brother." Roy gestured to Dick. "And with the way you kick ass, I'd be stupid to not try and befriend a guy like you."

Dick eyed Roy. The way he spoke, it seemed genuine. Maybe Roy was telling the truth. Maybe he really did just need a friend. A familiar face. Maybe Dick was paranoid with trust issues.

"Familiar face," Dick mumbled. "I suppose I get that."

Roy nodded. He held up a finger. "Speaking of kicking ass, that dude wasn't kicking my ass. I just want to make that clear."

"Dude, the guy was pounding on you."

"I let him."

Dick opened his mouth to speak, but found the words wouldn't escape his lips. He tried not to giggle. "Wait, you LET him kick your ass?"

Roy let out a groan. He began to explain, using his hands to emphasize each word slowly. "I have a problem. I guess you could call it anger issues. Maybe. But when I fight, & adrenaline starts pumping, & I get angry, I really lose control. I hurt people badly. I put a few in a coma."

"Been there, done that," Dick mumbled as he took another sip of his coffee.

"I'd like to think that having restraint & willpower to know when to fight & when not to fight is more rewarding in the long run," Roy explained.

Dick let out a chuckle. "Right, because winning isn't everything."

"Exactly."

"It's just the only thing that matters," Dick finished with a grin.

Roy let out a small chuckle. Dick took another sip from his coffee when Roy spoke again. "So, dude, okay, when you came to the alley, you were coming from the police station, right?"

Dick looked up at Roy. He began to feel suspicious & on alert, like a spotlight being shone on him. It felt like he was back in the interrogation room. He then remembered the spotlight that shone on his face a year ago that brought him to his most vulnerable. Roy wasn't as bad, but he still made Dick nervous.

Dick nodded. "Yeah man, I was."

Roy nodded. "I was there too for a bit," he said. "Those assholes are completely useless, man. I went in to file a missing persons record but they told me it's not a case unless they've been missing for three days or something."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Eesh, that's fucked up," Dick mumbled. "Who's missing?" Dick asked, hoping to keep the conversation away from him.

Roy looked up. "Just an idiot who owes me a beer."

Dick looked down at his drink. He knew he wouldn't get a real answer. Dick didn't blame him. Vagueness was the only way of getting by in Gotham.

Roy took a sip from his drink. "What were you doing at the station?"

"Nothing," Dick said a first. He shook his head. "They needed to ask me some questions. I guess I served as an informant in a way."

Roy looked at Dick straight in his eyes. "Before I was mugged, I heard Bruce Wayne yelling in the street about a break in."

Dick bit his bottom lip. He shrugged. "Well, it wasn't exactly a break in," Dick started. "In fact, it wasn't even remotely a break in. I went to this house, looking for a friend, & her parents turned out to a little weird & looney. They fucking called the cops on me, & then I was questioned as an informant."

Roy's eyes widened. "Wow," he said. "That's fucked up." He looked down at his drink. "You said 'she.'"

Dick looked up at Roy. "You're right."

Roy raised a curious eyebrow. "She must've been one hell of a girl for you to go to jail for."

Dick let out a chuckle. "I suppose," he said softly. "It led me nowhere, though. I just wanted to see her now that I'm back in town, & I have no clue where the hell she may be."

Roy looked down at his drink. He kept quiet for a moment. Dick looked around the coffee shop awkwardly. Roy then stood up from his seat. "Going to the restroom," he mumbled as he passed Dick.

Dick watched as Roy walked to the back, into a restroom. Dick took another sip from his drink. He wish he knew more about where Cheyenne had gone off to. He didn't want to risk talking to her parents again. He DEFINITELY didn't want to speak to the cops again. They didn't seem to know much about where she had run away to in the first place.

What would happen if Dick ended up finding Cheyenne? Would she be happy? Would she care? Would she even recognize him? Suddenly a thought crept into Dick's mind that made his heart grow tense in fear. What if she didn't like who Dick had become…?

Dick blinked away the tears that had snuck up on him & turned around in his seat. He saw the same group of girls from earlier sitting at the table. Dick looked at the redhead again. After a moment, she glanced up, noticing Dick looking over. She smiled, then looked down shyly. Her friends seemed to notice the redhead smiling to herself. They glanced over at Dick & began giggling. The started whispering amongst themselves & waving at Dick. Dick let out a soft chuckle & waved back. He had never really been hit on before. It was a good feeling.

Dick then started thinking about Cheyenne again. He remembered first meeting her. They were both so young. He really had no interest in girls at that point. Once he got a bit older, he had developed a crush on her. He never knew how Cheyenne felt, though. He liked to think she felt the same way. He never acted on his feelings. Maybe he should've.

"Okay, Dicky," Roy called as he appeared from the back of the coffee shop. He walked back to the table with a sudden swagger that hadn't been there earlier.

Dick watched as Roy took a seat across from him. "Don't call me that," Dick said.

Roy nodded, but went on. "Okay, what time do you have to be home?"

Dick thought about it. "I don't," he answered.

A grin grew over Roy's face. "Next question: Do you believe in magic?"

Dick stared dumbfoundedly as Roy continued to grin. After not getting a response, Roy cleared his throat. "Magic, dude. You know, witchcraft, sorcery, dark arts, gypsies, all that sort of stuff. Anyway, I know a dude in town, Giovanni or something, he owns this little shop. It's weird, I won't lie. He sells books written in old dead languages & jars with what looks like body parts from small animals. At first, I didn't think I should trust the guy, but he turned out to be so jolly & nice.

"He did that tarot reading thing on me. I got this card that said Eight of Pentacles, I'm not sure what that meant. Then there was a Strength card, & a Hanged Man. Now, that one scared me. It was reversed. The card apparently represented an outdated relationship, & a sacrifice should be made to let go of something, or someone. Something like that."

Dick nodded, unsure where the conversation was going. "That's really vague, fuck tarot cards."

Roy scratched his head. "Yeah, but the way he talked to me, it was vague, but accurate in a subtle way. Then he pulled out a fucking crystal ball. He made me place my hands on it, & he held his over mine. He started, like, seeing something. He was the one who told me about my missing friend." Roy looked down at his drink, suddenly in deep thought. Dick watched as he shook the cup. Roy hadn't realized it was empty.

Roy looked up at Dick, finally getting to his point. "You mentioned your friend. You were looking for her. I can bet you this Giovanni guy can find her for you. Whether it's some weird mind reading or hypnosis or God knows what, he can do it."

Dick pursed his lips. He leaned forward towards Roy, feeling his heart pound steadily. "How can I be sure this is legit? You find your way to my house, buy me coffee, & now wanna take me to some creep psychic dude? How do I know you're not some low life who's scheming to fuck me over in the last minute & kill me or steal from me or something?"

Roy stared at Dick seriously. "You've got bad trust issues, man," he said with a scoff. Dick remained silent. Roy sighed, then continued. "Look man, honestly, you're right. I could easily just be a con artist prying on the adoptive sons of rich men. You have no way of knowing for sure, though. You'll just have to take a leap of faith."

Dick let the words soak in for a moment. Faith. That was a word he hadn't heard in what felt like ages ago. It almost had no meaning. Dick sat bad, considering the possibilities. "Okay," he started, "sure. Maybe you are a good guy. But I don't trust psychics. They usually just rip you off & take your money while just talking bullshit, right?"

Roy shook his head. "This guy was pretty accurate, man. It didn't feel fake like with other people. I actually FELT something happening to me while he read my mind." Dick's face indicated that he still wasn't sold. Roy cleared his throat. "I'll pay for your reading, so they'll be ripping me off & not you, how's that sound?"

A small grin rose in the corner of Dick's mouth. Dick continued to consider the possibilities. "And this guy could read my mind...to find Cheyenne?"

Dick stared at Roy, waiting for an answer. For a brief moment, Roy was in a bit of a shock. Dick realized he hadn't mentioned Cheyenne's name before. "Yeah, dude," Roy said softly. "They most likely can find her. Use your mind & connections to her to locate her, something like that."

Dick continued thinking about the situation. Roy actually did seem trustworthy; Dick really was just a bit paranoid, he had to admit. Roy would pay for the psychic, so if it did turn out to be a scam, Dick wouldn't have much to lose. On the off chance that it wasn't a scam...he might actually find out where Cheyenne was. He could finally talk to her again. He needed to see her desperately.

Dick sighed. He grinned softly. "Alright dude, abracadabra, let's go see some psychics."


End file.
